Welcome to Hell
by comet80
Summary: When Liane Cartman dies, custody goes to the one and only person Eric Cartman dreads most. *201spoiler*
1. Prologue

**_This fic was inspired right before 201 was shown. Major spoiler if you haven't seen the episode, but if you don't care about spoilers, then go ahead and read this fic. It's going to be chaptered, and the chapters are going to be really short. It's my first time writing first-person Cartman, and I never usually write Cartman except for a line or two, so he may be a bit OOCish until I get the hang of writing him. But all in all, I'm excited about this fic and I hope you guys like it._**

**_Disclaimer: No way do I own South Park. Right now, that could be a good thing...._**

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**Prologue**

It all started over a bucket of chicken.

My life went to hell over an 8.99 bucket of chicken.

It started off like any normal Friday afternoon. It was just about dinner time and my mother was going out to get some KFC chicken. We always got KFC on Fridays, every Friday since I can remember.

Mom was gone three hours that night.

It didn't bother me she was gone. I figured she stopped by to get some groceries or something, and when it got to the point I was starting to get hungry, I called her cell phone to remind what her main priority was: feeding me.

"_This call cannot go through. If you need help, please dial your operator .Thank you."_

I called three more times and didn't get through.

It was at eight when officer Barbrady showed up at my door. Thinking it was Mom, I was prepared to give her a lecture on the importance of coming home on time.

"Is this the Cartman residence?"

Of course it is. He knew very well it was, everyone did.

I wasn't in any mood to be nice to him, so I said it to him straight. "Why do you want to know?" I snapped.

"Oh, I was supposed to tell an Eric Cartman that his mother died. She got hit by some drunk driver over by that KFC. Anyways, have a great day!"

Have. A. Great. Day.

Those words were burned into my mind.

How could I have a great day when my mother _died_?

I know I thought being on my own would be awesome and cool, but it was too soon. Being on your own when you weren't even old enough to cook for yourself literally sucked. Ever since that douche bag dog trainer came, Mom hid all her money out of my reach, so I couldn't even get pizza if I wanted too. Bitch locked it in some safe in some bank, too.

I was stuck on my own, and it fucking sucked. It could have been more awesome if I had better food in the house, but all I had were pop tarts and frozen waffles.

It felt like being at Kenny's house.

Goddammit.

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_**Feedback? Anyone? Anyone? *taps on computer glass***_


	2. To Hell and Hollywood

**_Thanks for all your wonderful reviews :) /_**_gives you guys KFC_**_/ I promise you guys I'll update as fast as I can. Summer break starts for me in about two weeks with the end of my first year in college, so updates might be a bit slower depending on certain exams. As for longer chapters, I'll have to see. Currently most of the chapters are short, but they're getting longer and being edited and fixed. So who knows._**

**_Disclaimer: Like I seriously own South Park. I don't even have a summer job planned out for this summer :p_**

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**Chapter 1**

Mom's funeral was full of people I didn't even know knew her. Whatever the hell she did, she sure knew a lot of was everyone from Mister Garrison, to most of the Denver Broncos, to Kyle's dad. Mom knew a lot of people, and everyone was here.

My group of assholes that I call friends even came. Either they care about me, or they were forced. Probably the second answer. They didn't even really seem to care that I was suffering.

Stupid fags.

I don't remember much of the funeral; I didn't even want to speak at it. I was too wrapped up in Mom being gone to even pay attention. It didn't even seem like it was _her_ funeral, but some family member I didn't even know. People were speaking about things I didn't even _know_ Mom did. It was like there was a whole different side to her I never knew.

What happened at her will reading was probably one of the worst days of my life.

Naturally, Mom left all her money and stuff to me, as I knew she would. But the stupid bitch made it so I couldn't access anything of hers until I turned eighteen. I couldn't live on my own, either. According to the will, custody of me was supposed to go to my father.

Too bad he was dead as well.

"In the rare case where both the mother and father are dead, custody of Eric Theodore Cartman will go to his older half-brother, Scott."

I literally shit my pants.

"_What_?"

Scott Tenorman and I are mortal enemies. It started off a few years back when he sold me some pubic hairs, and conned me out of my money. I naturally got revenge on him by chopping his parents up into little pieces and putting them in his bowl of Chili, and making him look like a pussy in front of his favorite band.

He got his revenge on me by hosting his own Chili Con Carnival of terror filled with gingers. Scott was the head ginger, and he used his power to torture me by knowing who my father was, and not telling me.

See, my Mom was never married. She had a lot of friends and I was conceived one day at a drunken barn dance. For the longest time I was convinced that my mother was actually my father and my mother wasn't my mom. It turns out that was a lie, and my real father died.

My real father was on the Denver Broncos, and the only person in South Park who was on the Denver Broncos was Jack Tenorman: the man I grounded up into a bowl of chili and forced his son to eat. So I killed my own father, and Scott used that against me.

It sucked that I killed my own father, but it was even worse to find out I'm half ginger. I'm half ginger, and that in its self is enough to be friendless for life. But on the positive side, I'm also half Denver Bronco, so it evens it out, and automatically makes me cooler than everyone else.

With Scott as my legal guardian, he can literally make my life living hell, and knowing him, it will be.

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_**Reviews? I promise the chapters will get longer :)**_


	3. The World's an Ugly Place

**_Thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate how many there were :D So the funniest thing happened, I thought would be funny to say. I was talking to my mom about South Park, and I said how they made fun of gingers, and she was like"hey! I have red hair and freckles!" I forgot that I too, am half ginger, like Cartman xD I'm sorry this chapter is really short, but I promise you the next chapter is long compared to the others. I already finished it. Also, No updates at least until the weekend. I have a paper I haven't even started due tomorrow xD. Sorry for the wicked long author note, and Don't forget to watch the last episode of the first half of season14 tonight! _**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. Just a poor college student who's trying to find ways to stretch her money the summer._**

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**Chapter 2**

I never thought parting with my house was going to be as hard as it was. It felt so weird to be leaving my house so early, and only having a small bag of things being brought with me. I always thought if I moved I'd bring a lot more with me than a suitcase of clothes, Mister Kitty, and Clyde Frog.

I was only told to bring the necessities since we're supposedly going to be poor as hell, but I managed to sneak my Xbox 360 into my suitcase. Besides, it wasn't like anyone was going to check my suitcase, and if they did, I'd make some bullshit excuse stating how it was the last present my mom ever gave me, and guilt them into my way.

The lawyer who was handling my mother's will walked me up to the front of my new house and knocked on the door.

"Are you nervous, Eric?" She asked me, trying to act as sweet as possible. I could see through her, I knew she was just doing her job, and she didn't care. "It's okay to be nervous meeting a sibling you've never met."

I didn't tell her how I knew him already, how we both hated each other. She wasn't from South Park, and I didn't bother filling her in on what happened in our small mountain town. She knocked on the door again, this time Scott answering the door.

"Hello, Scott!" the bitch said in her most cheerful voice. "This is your little brother, Eric!"

"_Half_-brother," I corrected. I didn't want to be associated with having the same blood as that ginger-freak.

"Brother, half-brother, before long it won't even matter," she exclaimed, walking into the living room. "Now I have some paper work for you to sign, so if you'll follow me to the kitchen Scott, we can get this started."

I saw her giving him all my past and present information. She filled him on all my medical records, criminal records, and everything. "You know, not many siblings are willing to make this sacrifice," she told him with a smile.

"Oh, believe me, I wouldn't want my brother being raised by anyone else," Scott said in a way that was almost sickenly sweet. A voice I swear I've heard before. When the lawyer wasn't looking, I saw him give me a smirk noting that he was going to be in charge of me until I turned eight-fucking-teen years old.

As soon as that lawyer bitch left the house, the door slammed shut and I heard the creepy voice of my half-brother say, "Welcome to Hell, Eric."

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_**Review? I appreciate feedback :3 Again, sorry so short.**_


	4. It Sucks to be Me

**_Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! You guys have no idea how much happiness it brings to me when I see a new one. As promised, this chapter is longer. A lot longer than the previous ones. Also, many have been wondering about Scott's age. In the show, it was said Scott was a "teenager" and some places listed his age as 15, which is what I'm going by. This takes place three years in the future, so Scott is eighteenish, and Cartman is twelve. And for the record, does anyone here know Cartman's birthday? I don't think it was ever given, yet we know everyone elses..._**

**_Disclaimer: Still a poor college girl..._**

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**Chapter 3**

I've only been living in this house for one fucking hour, and he's already on my ass. He's already gave me the gayest bedtime in the history of bed times, banned television, and gave me a diet that consists of foods no human would ever want in their system.

It's almost as bad as when that douche bag gave Mom all those instructions about child care, and treated me like a dog.

So far, this hasn't been as bad as that, but it's pretty close.

"Eric, I made dinner. It's your _favorite_. I made Chili," he says in that same torturing voice he used when he said he first knew who my father was.

I went into his poor excuse for a kitchen and sat at the rickety table and stared into my chili. I was fucking starving until I took one look at my chili. It looked fucking gross, like bloody dog shit mixed with some sort of gross shit.

None of it looked appetizing; I don't think Kenny would even eat this for fifty bucks, and he'd eat _anything_ for money.

"Now Eric," Scott said in a way that was mocking my mother. "If you don't eat your supper then you get no desert."

"D-dessert?" So maybe getting this crap off my plate was worth it for some real food, like a Snicker bar or something. _Anything_ that wasn't this shit.

"Yup." He smirked. "It's a surprise. But you have to eat your dinner first."

As slowly and as painlessly as I could, I shoveled the waste's attempt of food into my mouth. It tasted like someone shit and piss in the fucking Chili. I spooned some more chili into my mouth when I felt a string in my mouth.

Curiously, I pulled the string out carefully, revealing an orange hair.

"Gross! That's fucking sick! Get your ginger pubes out of my chili!"

"But it was my _special recipe_ I made _just for you." _Each word he said was like poison. "It's for my _baby_ brother."

"I'm not a _fucking_ baby; I'm twelve years old! An' if you don't know that than you can suck my nuts!"

"Eat your fucking chili you little shit, or I'll shovel it in your mouth for you!" He roared, and goddammit, his voice was almost as loud as Kyle's bitch of a mom. "I'm going to the bathroom and if that chili isn't done before I get back than you're going to fucking get it!"

As soon as he went to the bathroom, I took the disgusting shit he called food and placed it on the floor. Normally I'd never let Mister Kitty eat horrible shit like this, but it was either me suffer, or him. Sorry Mister Kitty, but I wasn't going to let that ginger-chili enter my mouth again.

"Meow," Mister Kitty purred at me, happy to have food in his stomach.

"Shh Misty Kitty," I shushed." If he knows it was you, he'd probably sell you to City Wok or something."

"Meow?" Misty Kitty cocked his head to the side, staring at me, making more noise.

"No Kitty! Bad Mister Kitty!" I heard the toilet flush and shooed away my cat.

Scott wiped his hands on his torn jeans as he came in the kitchen. "I see you ate the rest of your chili. See how better this goes when you're not being a dick? Here."

He placed a bowl of fruit in front of me. "What the fuck is this?" I poked at the foreign object with my fork. "What the _fuck_ is this, Scott?"

"…Fruit."

"And why is this _fag food_ on my plate instead of dessert?"

"That _is_ dessert. I can't afford fancy desserts. _We _can't afford much of anything extravagant."

"We're fucking _poor?_"

"That's what happens when both your parents get murdered when you're a kid. "

"What about the money my mom left me?" I snapped. "That's just going to sit in a bank until I'm eighteen? What a fucking waste!"

"Well, my parents had enough money left when they died to give me a fixed income until I was old enough to get a part time job. As long as we only spend no more than a hundred bucks a month on food, and stay within our budget of 400 dollars a month, we'll be alright. Your mom also said that if I needed to, I could dip into your money she left you."

"What the fuck? That's _my_ money you asshole! Mom left it to _me. So it's __**mine**_."

"No, _your_ mom had the will fixed right after you learned the truth and said if I were ever to have custody of you and we were in a desperate need of money, I could get access to the money she left you. She said she would never want her little _Poopsiekins_ to suffer."

My face turned a light shade of red. Jesus Christ Mom, even when you're dead you had to embarrass me by calling me "Poopsiekins" on your fucking will. I can only wonder what else she wrote on all those fucking records my ginger of a half-brother knows now.

At the only moment of silence Mister Kitty came waltzing into the kitchen.

"Meow," he said, rubbing his head against Scott's leg.

"What the fuck?" He spazzed, kicking Mister Kitty across the room. She let out a loud hiss as she landed on her feet across the house. "I fucking hate cats! They're fucking idiots and make me fucking sick." He kicked Mister Kitty again who hissed.

"What the fuck? Only _I_ can punish Mister Kitty! He's _mine!_"

"I fucking hate cats you little twit, now shut the fuck up and go to bed," the asshole snapped. I seriously think he might be bipolar or something, or suffer from multiple personality disorder.

"You're not my fucking mom, you can't tell me what to _do,_" I challenged back. Asshole isn't going to think he's getting off easy. No one tells me what to do, not even some dumb piece of paper a ginger has possession of.

Scott dangled the piece of paper over me. "I _own_ you until you turn eighteen." I jumped for the paper to try and grab it, but he just jerked up and down. "I think I'm going to get a frame for this for _everyone_ to see. As long as you're in my house, you follow my rules."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't even want to live here; don't you know that?"

"Just get to bed you fuckin' fatass."

"Ay! Don't call me fat you crazy fuckin' lunatic!"

"I'm not the one who had our father _killed_ and had him ground up into chili."

"_One time_."

"Just get to fuckin' bed or your fuckin' cat gets it!" He roared again.

Goddammit.

I trudged down the hall to my new bedroom angrily. It was disgusting in here, but I didn't bother on telling Scott. I wanted to avoid him as much as I could, even if it meant staying in this shit hole room. I grabbed onto Clyde Frog squeezing my eyes shut, hoping everything would be back to normal in the morning.

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_**Reviews? Love? *hands out muffins to reviwers* I'm feeling generous tonight :)**_


	5. Children Surrender

**_I'm going to start off by saying thanks to the ones who reviewed :) These next few days will be slow with the updating as I have finals to work on, but by next Wednesday I will be done with school for four glorious months :D But until then I'm stuck in exam city :( On the bad side, this chapter is really short. But The content for this chapter is really funny. Well, to me anyways....._**

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**Chapter 4**

The next morning and the morning after weren't any better. I wasn't allowed to leave the fucking house yet because Scott the Asshole had some stupid fear that I might run away or something. That and he kept hammering the fact he was my guardian into my head as much as he could and kept making pointless rules.

It was like he was fucking in love with that paper. He actually framed it and hung it on the wall in the living room. He stopped by every day to read the stupid thing and smirk at it with a look of pride on his ginger face.

I thought by the third day I could understand most of his unusual habits and moods, but that day he gave me the worst smirk I have ever seen him give me. It was almost as bad as that one he gave me when we met for the second time.

"Eric, get your church clothes on," he said mindlessly.

"It's fucking Saturday. The only people who go to Saturday church are old people and-"I stopped mid sentence.

Fuck. It can't be, it can't be. He better _not_ be.

"I always go on Saturday. In fact, I have something I think you'd like to hear." His smirk was a mile wide. "See, my mom, she was born a Christian, not a very religious one, but was a Christian none the less. But Dad, well, religion was the one thing he and Mom disagreed on."

Oh no. Not this. _Anything_ but this.

"Dad and Mom never saw eye to eye when it came to religion. Dad was, Dad was well, let's just say Dad never really celebrated Christmas. He was kinda, well, Dad was _Jewish_."

This is not fucking happening. I am not half Jewish. No way in hell. "You're breaking my balls, Scott. You're not fucking Jewish."

"Well, my parents said when I was older I was to pick of the two. Right before my parents died, I was about to know for sure my decision, and then well, _you_ came along. When I was confined in that hell for those months I learned something. A little boy once tried to terminate the Jewish population, and you know who that boy is? My little brother. "

"S-Stop lying Scott," I stuttered. "You're f-fucking lying, you dick." I tried to hide all signs of weakness, but it wasn't happening. I can't have any Jewish blood in me, I just can't.

"Dad always wanted his son to follow in his _Jewish_ footsteps. Well, I learned you _feared_ Jews, and that's when I knew the perfect religion."

"NO," I had to protest. "No Scott, no."

"Surprise," he said cheekily, his shit eating grin taunting me. "We're Jewish."

This is not fucking happening.

I can't be half _ginger_ and half fucking _Jewish_. I, Eric Cartman can_not_ have any Jewish blood in me. It's just not right.

No one better fucking know this.

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_**I hope I'm not the only one who found this amusing...So Tell me what'cha think in a review :D **_


	6. No Longer Dreaming

**_WHEE~ Thanks for all the great reviews :D I'm done with school for the year so thats very good news. I survived my fresh year of college :D Now if I could only find a way to cosplay south park.... Been wanting to do that for a while..._**

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**Chapter 5**

When Monday morning came, I was almost thrilled to go back to school. Even though middle school is fucking stupid, _any_ excuse to leave the house was worth it. I even went to the bus stop early.

Scott was a dick like usual, and the stupid asshole wrecked my hat I've been wearing since I could walk. I don't even know exactly how it happened, but the stupid fuck made the thing nothing but a pile of yarn now.

Asshole.

I stood at the bus stop, being there earlier than I used to. The guys came to the stop a little bit later and kept staring at me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I snapped.

"Nothing, just-"

"How's it living with your half-brother?" The stupid Jew asked. Fuck. Now that I'm supposedly Jewish, does it make it okay to joke about this shit? It's not like they're gonna know anyway.

"Fuck off Jew," I replied. It felt good to say a Jew joke.

"Don't call me a Jew you fuckin' fatass!"

"Don't call me fat you fuckin' Jew!"

"Maybe you should learn to be a little nicer fatass. Hope all this is teaching you a lesson for what you did to Scott."

"About what? If anyone's mom deserves to die, it's your bitch of a mom."

"Don't call my mom a bitch!"

"It's not like that's a lie," I added with a smirk.

"At least I have a mom," Kyle added, smirking back. Fucking asshole. It's not my fault Mom got hit by some dumbass driver, though that stupid voice kept saying it was my fault that I had to have KFC.

Shut the fuck up, voice.

Stan sucked in some air as if he were trying to scold Kyle, but it didn't work. Those two are so gay for each other; they'd jump at the chance to sleep together and would, if it didn't make them look gay.

For some fucking reason that Jew's comment messed with me. I didn't think I'd be effected this much, but I guess it makes sense, after all, it was my mom.

When I got off the bus, I avoided going to class. I walked past the faggy goth kids and all the other pussies and outcasts. I went into the boy's bathroom and shut the door. When I knew no one was in the bathroom, I let out a quiet sob.

When I knew no one was going to be around I let my sobs get louder. I pulled my knees up to my chest and let out large sobs. I got swept away in my thoughts, crying about how fucked my life is. I'm fucking Jewish and ginger, my older half-brother is my fucking worst enemy who wants to kill me, and he's fucking up my life.

I just wish everything would go back to how it was.

I sucked in my sobs when I heard the door to the bathroom close. Someone went into the stall next to me and I swallowed my tears and walked out, wiping my eyes as I did so. I wasn't even two feet out the door when Hippie Pussy came over to me.

"Dude, have you been crying?"

"Fuck off pussy," I snapped, wishing I had my hat on.

Scott, that fucking asshole.

"No, dude, it's ok. I have an older sister."

"He's fucking worse than any bitch of yours."

"Older siblings are assholes, I know that. It's not easy being the youngest." I hated how that stupid Poof Ball Hat Boy was trying to make me feel better. He looked fucking ridiculous in that gay looking hat. His black hair didn't even stay underneath the hat at all anymore. It leaked out from underneath into his stupid blue eyes that bitch he broke up with always fell for.

"Stop trying to make me feel better, you fuckin' pussy."

He looked at me funny. "You don't have to be such an asshole, Cartman. I was just trying to help."

"Well …don't."

"Okay then," he said, walking back to class, his stupid voice cracking as he did so.

That fucking pussy was the only one of us that got the curse of hitting puberty early. Well, it sucks for him. For the rest of us, it's hilarious. He can't talk with out his voice cracking, and it does it unexpectedly. Certain times it's deeper, and sometimes he sounds like a chipmunk. It's fucking hilarious, and I hope his voice stays like this forever.

Because our school is so fucking small, almost everyone who's in my class has been in my class since kindergarten, and everyone knows everyone's business. Our school won't even change until we hit Park County High School which is in Middle Park.

Everyone knew about my mom, but almost no one acted like they cared.

Douche bags.

I hope their mothers die unexpectedly and they end up with some douche bag sibling. Then who'd have the last laugh? Then they'd know how much it sucks to be in a situation like this.

I wasn't even two feet into the classroom when the stupid principal came onto the speaker. "Is Eric Cartman present? If so, could you send him to me please?"

"Eric, you may go. Don't forget to take a hall pass," the stupid bitch with some name I can't remember said.

Walking down the hallway I tried to think of everything I did wrong, and nothing came to mind. I didn't think I did anything wrong. Sure I swore and stuff in class, but _everyone_ did, so why punish just me? I walked into the office and didn't even have a chance to wait. The principal led me straight into her office and had me sit down.

"Hello Eric. I heard about what happened. It's such a shame that you're put into a situation like this at an early age."

I wasn't going to take any of her mindless rambles. I decided to just apologize for whatever I was obviously sent in here for. "I'm sorry for whatever I did," I said dully. "Can I go back to class now?"

She blinked, staring at me in confusion before giving out a soft laugh. "No, no. You're not in trouble Eric. You're here because we want to help you. We think it'd be beneficial if you went to our school therapist to talk things over with. She's expecting you."

"What if I don't want to go?"

"Eric, please," she sighed. "It's supposed to help you through the hard times. Just go and visit her. You get to miss class for this you know," she added.

If I was going to get out of class just to go see some therapist, then maybe I could give it a try. After all, this has got to be better than sitting in a class for forty minutes.

Or maybe for the first time in my life I was wrong.

The stupid therapist is extremely peppy. She's acting like she's known me forever, when she hardly knows anything but my name.

"So Eric, how are you feeling?" she asks me, and I give her no answer.

"Okay, that's fine," she replies, that smile still on her face. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Now I just want to get to know you. I'm going to ask you some questions and just answer them as honestly as you can. Don't worry, nothing leaves the room," she said again in some voice that makes her sound like she's talking to a five year old. "Now, what's your name?" she asks.

I raise an eyebrow. That's a stupid question to ask when she already knows my name.

"Eric Cartman," I say slowly, trying to see if she's playing any mind games.

"Good! What's your favorite color?"

I don't know why she's asking stupid questions that lead to nothing, but whatever. "Red."

"Ooh, I like that color too! Now what's your favorite food?"

I don't even hesitate on this answer. "KFC."

"Yum," is her only response. "Do you have a favorite animal?"

I don't need to think about the answer but I act like I do. "Cat," I say, and she looks surprised.

"Really? Do you have a cat, Eric?" I don't answer her and she goes on to the next question."What about a least favorite animal?"

_That_ question is easy. "Monkeys," I say, and she doesn't say anything but scratches something down on her clipboard. I don't even know what the fuck that has to do with anything.

"Who is your favorite person?" She asks and I'm dead silent.

I have no reply, and I give her no reply. She doesn't do anything but wait and asks that question again. "Eric? Did you hear me? I asked who your favorite person is."

My eyes fall towards the ground and she makes a note of something. I hesitate slowly before answering with a soft reply of "no one."

She makes no noise and scratches something down again on her clipboard. "Do you have a least favorite person, Eric?"

I don't even hesitate on this answer. "Scott Tenorman," I say quickly without thinking.

She just nods her head and asks another question. "I hear you've been living with your half-brother. How's that going?"

"Fine," I lie and she nods her head again. I don't think she believes me.

"What's his name?"

"Scott Tenorman…," I say slowly and she nods her head.

"Didn't you say he was your least favorite person? How can you be fine when you're living with your least favorite person?"

Fuckin' bitch is starting to act complicated.

"It just is," I replied annoyed. "Listen, it's been nice talkin' to you, but I have to get back to class." I pull on my backpack but she shakes her head.

"No Eric, I'm not finished yet."

Goddamn bitch.

"Answer these last few questions then you can go, I promise."

"Fine," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Did you love your mom?" She asks, and I think what the fuck kind of question is that? Of course I loved my mom, stupid bitch. That's the dumbest question she's asked all day.

"Duh," I replied.

"Why?"

What kind of question is that? She's my mom, dumb bitch.

"She's my mom. Of course I loved her, an' I don't have to give you reasons why."

"Very well then. One last question and then you can go. Do you miss her?"

What the fuck? This lady is tripping balls.

I roll my eyes again, deeply annoyed."_Yes_ I miss her. You'd miss your mom if she died and you got stuck with your fucking worst enemy who wants to make your life hell."

"Okay Eric, you can go then," she says and I do just that. She doesn't say anything to me about future meetings, and I don't even bother listening if she did.

I was back to class near the end of the day, and that stupid bitch made me miss lunch. Goddammit. She made me miss lunch and I was fucking hungry. Lunch was my only good meal of the day now, and I missed it.

Fucking bitch.

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_**Reviews? Number 40 gets TWO megamans while the rest o' ya just get a) underwear stolen by teh gnomes b)ninja star like Butters or c) Scott's special Chili. Your choice :)**_


	7. Like a Dog that's Been Sodomized

**_Wasn't that last chapter a hoot n' a hollar? Thank you guys for the reviews :) Dnny By was the one who got review number 40, so um, they get the two mega mans :P This next chapter is one of my favorites...Actually, I just got season one of South Park on DVD, Matt and Trey are amazing. Their silly intros are so funny. :)_

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Chapter 6

I've been living with Scott for about two weeks now and he's still a fucking dick. He actually checks my homework and forces me to do it! If I mess up on a problem he actually gets pissed off and makes me redo it. He even has the liberty to talk to my teachers if he's unhappy with a grade I got. He's fuckin' psycho.

Goddamn ginger Jew.

He even forced me to go to his Jewish church with him, and all I could do was hope Kyle wasn't there. Luckily he wasn't there, but Scott acted like a fucking asshole when he was showing me off to some of his friends.

They're all fucking stupid. They were talking about stupid shit that wasn't even worth listening in for. It was just a bunch of dumb guys talking about how to impress dumb hoes.

What a waste of time.

One afternoon when I came home from school, instead of being bitched at to do my homework, he bitched at me to comb my hair and change my clothes.

What the fuck?

"Get in the car," he snapped. "My girlfriend and her family invited us over for dinner."

I could fucking laugh. _He _has a _girlfriend?_ An actual girl fell for the ginger Jew? Not to mention he was half crazy.

"No," I said.

"Fine," he replied. "Then you can just have pop tarts for dinner."

"Fine, I'll go." I folded my hands across my chest as I sat in his shit of metal he called a car. I watched the familiar houses fly by when I saw him pull into a familiar driveway.

What the hell? He pulled into the driveway of an old friend of mine, and I watched him whistle happily as he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

The door opened to the sight of Stan's drunken dad. "Who's the creepy ginger kid?" he asked loudly, as he slammed the door again in our faces. Scott didn't move, like he was almost used to this reaction.

"_Dad_," I heard the voice say. "That's my boyfriend, Scott. Mom invited him over for dinner."

"_Ooh,"_ was all the reply was.

The door opened again and Stan's bitch of an older sister answered. Goddammit, she wasn't that bad looking for a stupid hoe. That stupid headgear was gone and the teeth were straight, and her hair was flat and brown.

Stan mentioned a while back that she was sixteen and got her headgear off and was dating some eighteen year old dude, but I didn't know it was gonna be Scott.

Dammit.

First, I'm half ginger, then fucking Jewish, and _now_ he's dating someone related to a hippie? We _can't_ be related. It's impossible for this to be happening.

"Hi Scott," the stupid bitch says, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. She lets out some dumb giggle and he just stands there with this dumb look on his face.

It's kind of sickening.

"Mom made pork for dinner," she says, and Scott slaps me on the back in some strange way. I think he's flirting with her, and it's a pretty weird sight to see.

"We love pork, don't we Eric?" He says loudly. I respond with a nod of the head, not sure what the point is. Oh well, at least I get a good meal out of this. At least he's dating someone who has a mom that can cook.

The two link hands and walk into the dining room, as I follow behind taking a seat at the dinner table. Mrs. Marsh gives me a strange look but forces on a cheerful smile. "Oh, hello Eric. Stanley didn't tell me he invited you over for dinner."

Scott chimes in with some sweet voice I didn't even know he was capable of having. "Oh no, Mrs. Marsh, Eric's with me. He's my little brother. I volunteered to take custody of him after his mother…passed on." He says the last bit in a way that's so fucking cheesy; I can easily tell he's sucking up.

"_Half_-brother," I mutter, but no one is even paying attention.

"Oh, that is so sweet of you," Stan's mother gushes. "Randy, isn't that sweet?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sweet." He doesn't even bother knowing what he's agreeing too, and looks at his plate."Can we eat now, Sharon?"

"Just a minute, Randy. Shelley, could you get your brother please? Tell him it's getting cold."

"But _Mom_," she starts to whine, but stops and goes over to the bottom of the stairs. She lets out a loud yell up the stairs. "TURD, IT'S DINNER TIME!"

I hear a soft "'kay" as the door shuts from the upstairs and the stupid Hippie Pussy comes down. His eyes meet mine, and he's completely confused.

"C-Cartman?" He asks, his voice cracking at my name. I want to laugh, but I refrain from doing so until I see Shelley forcing back a giggle.

"Stanley, this is Shelley's boyfriend Scott. He and Eric are-"

"I know," Stan says quickly. "I already knew. "

"We'll just say grace then," she says as everyone starts to bow their heads. She's about to start the prayer, but stops when she sees Scott out of the corner of her eye. Scott keeps his head up, and I see a coy smile appear across his lips.

He better not.

He better fuckin' not.

"Is something the matter, Scott?" Stan's mom asks slightly concerned.

"Oh, nothing Mrs. Marsh. It's just that-"he stops and puts on some look of fake embarrassment.

"What is it, Scott?"

All eyes fall on him, and I give him a glare, which he returns with a smirk. "It's nothing, really," he says before letting out some stupid fake laughter. "It's nothing, really. It's quite, silly, actually," he states with fake embarrassment plastered on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says and I'm about to let out a sigh of relief when he continues. "It's just, I sometimes get uncomfortable around different prayers," he says, and I know he's lying. I know he is, and I just want to kill him before he lets out what he wants to say next.

Everyone is looking at him now, and no one is going to stop staring at him until they get the answer he's dying to give.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," Stan's mother says embarrassed.

"It's alright," Scott apologizes. "You didn't know I was Jewish."

I could hear the sound of a pin drop. Actually, I heard a fork clank against a plate. I look over at Stan, and he's holding in so much laughter, his face is red and milk squirts from his nose. Stan's dad is chuckling at his son's behavior, and his mom just scolds her son.

"Stanley!"

"Sorry," his voice cracks, and he's forcing back the laughter now. He grins every time he looks at me, and I shoot him a glare.

Stan's mom looks down at the pork and her cheeks get red. "I had no idea about that, Scott, I'm so sorry. Is the meal going to be a problem?"

"Oh no, Mrs. Marsh, it won't be a problem at all," he replies in that fake voice that makes him sound like a suck up.

"Well, then eat up, you too, Stanley," she says and Pussy Boy complains.

"But _Mom,_ I told you I don't _like_ pork," he whines.

"You liked it last time I fixed it," she says with an annoyed look on her face.

"Last time I didn't know about the baby pigs," he says and I roll my eyes.

Last month our class saw this wicked awesome movie about how food gets to your plate, and this one portion showed all these sweet pictures of dead cows and baby pigs being ground up and turned into all sorts of things.

Most of the class were kind of disgusted, but they all just didn't eat meat that day, and by the end of the week, everyone in class was back to their normal eating habits. Except Stan. He came to the bus stop the next day and said he was never ever going to eat meat again, and this time he meant it. We had to remind him about that brief period in fourth grade where he actually turned into a pussy, but this time he said he didn't care.

The first few days with no meat, we asked him how it was, and he said he just felt better, physically and mentally. He said that it was the best decision he ever made, and to this day he won't eat meat. Not even KFC.

He was over at my house one time, well my old house or whatever, and it was around the time he decided to stop eating meat. Mom brought home KFC, and Stan immediately put down the chicken wing. We thought he was going to cave in and eat it first, but he then just started going on about stupid shit like an innocent chicken was killed so I could eat my meal.

He's such a fucking pussy.

He doesn't touch his pork and just eats the vegetables and potatoes as his mother sighs, taking his plate back to the kitchen. She brings out dessert, and it smells so good. It's so warm and it looks so delicious, and I can just feel my mouth watering.

She doesn't even ask me if I want dessert as she puts the pie on my plate, and I dig into it without a wait. It reminds me of a simpler time, back when dessert was _this_ and not stupid fag food, like fruit. Back when _home_ was actually a welcoming place, and not a house with some douche bag half-brother. Back when the only time I ever had to even _acknowledge_ my brother's existence was buying him a stupid birthday card for his birthday.

It was Mom's idea. She said it was the least I could do since the tragic death of his parents. She said this is what siblings do: buy a card for the other's birthday, regardless of what they actually want to do. So two days before his birthday, Mom and I would go to the card store and I'd be forced to pick out a stupid card.

The first time I remember buying a card, I remember asking my mom if I could just buy half a card, since he was only half my brother. Mom just shook her head and forced me to the birthday section of the store, and ordered me to pick out a card.

I picked out the most emotionless, most plain card I could, but when Mom saw it, she frowned and put it back and picked out a different one. She picked out the cheesiest card she could find and bought it without my input.

I remember it said something so fucking cheesy, and looked so fucking cheesy. It looked like a five year old drew the front and the inside said something like" You're the best brother ever! Happy Birthday!" and then she forced me to sign my name and then rewarded me with ice cream.

It was so easy then, so much better then.

Back when Mom was alive.

I got pulled back into reality as Scott and Shelley were laughing at Stan's voice. I can't blame them, it is hilarious how he can't speak right anymore. Stan, on the other hand was being a whiny little bitch, complaining to his mom that Shelley's making fun of his voice.

Scott was too; they both were, but Stan only seemed focused on getting Shelley in trouble. His mom comes back into the room and says in a rehearsed voice for both of them to stop it. Both agree to their mother's demands, and as soon as Mrs. Marsh leaves the room, Shelley gives her brother a glare.

"Next time be quiet, chipmunk _turd," _she sneers.

I laugh at her response and Scott gives me a glare. "You too, _turd._"

The both of them laugh together, and its then I realize.

Fucking hell, they're perfect for each other.

They both have extreme anger issues, hate their younger siblings, and they're both crazy. It's the perfect combination.

I see my half-brother and Stan's sister starting to make out on the couch, and I look away, desperate to keep my mind away from those disgusting thoughts, and keep my dinner inside where it belongs.

The stupid Pussy Boy tapped me on the shoulder. "Want to go up to my room? They're probably going to be like this for a while."

I look over my shoulder and follow Stan up to his room.

I sit down on his bed, as he sits down at his desk, pulling out his math book to begin working on the homework. We're not talking to each other; he's just sitting there working on those stupid math problems, but I know he wants to laugh. I know he's dying to make some smart remark. He's such a smartass, and I know he wants to say something.

"Go on," I snap. "Go on and laugh, 'cause once we get to school, you're not to tell _anyone_ of this."

He puts his pencil down and turns around to face me. "What?"

"You know what. Go on; get it out of your system. I saw that look at dinner."

"What look? What?"

"You know, Stan," I sneer. "You know Scott's-"

"Dude, whatever." Stan shrugs. "So you're like, half Jewish. I don't really care."

"You don't? Or are you just lying so you can tell that stupid Jew of yours?"

"No Cartman, I really don't care. I mean, sure it's funny that _you_ of all people have Jewish blood in you, but I really don't care." He went back to look at his work, then gave up ten minutes later and turned back towards me. "And no, I'm not gonna tell Kyle either."

"You're not?"

"No. Can you just leave this topic alone? It's not that big of a deal."

"Then why did you invite me up here then?"

Stan slams his book shut. "Dude, I invited you up here because I'm sure you didn't want to watch your brother suck face with my sister. I'm aware of how disgusting it is."

I smirked. "That's because it's a hetro kiss."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shut up Cartman. I am _not_ _gay_ for _Kyle_." His stupid voice cracked again and I laughed.

"You should really do something about that voice, _Stanley_." I smirked.

"I'm trying!" He whined."It's not like I _want_ my voice to be like this!" It cracked again and he let out an aggravated cry. "_Fuuuck."_

"Jesus Christ, you're starting to sound like that Tweek kid."

"Just shut the fuck up, Cartman, or I'll tell everyone you're Jewish," he snaps.

So he was going to tell. Lying asshole hippie.

"So you were gonna tell?"

"No."

"You just said you were, Stan."

"I said I _would_." His voice cracks again."_Dammit!"_ He gives a defeated sigh. "Just…Just go or something. I don't feel like talking anymore."

"I can't go. I'm stuck here."

Fucking asshole doesn't reply and we're both left with the silence. He's just working on some homework assignment and sticks to his silence where as I'm just forced to sit here in his room listening to the sounds of whatever the hell is in his house.

I hear his stupid gay dog barking for most of the time, and when he shuts up a new sound takes over. It's not a loud sound, and it's kinda familiar. I mean, I think I heard it around my old house before. It's a lot of grunting and moaning, every once in a while a sound of loud cry would fill the house.

The sounds are starting to get louder and I see Stan sigh again and shove some headphones into his ear before going back over to his desk. Not having any ear plugs around, I reach up to try and pull my hat over my ears as an old habit, but I forgot that Scott the Asshole ruined my hat.

Apparently it "fell" in the garbage disposal.

Yeah fucking right.

Like something can just "fall" into the garbage disposal and get destroyed.

It's not really possible, and I think Scott's trying to break me or something. It's not going to work; he'll never be able to defeat me.

I fucked his life once, and I can easily do it again.

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_**Reviews? I'm feelin' quite generous today, so all you lucky reviewers get chocolate chicken pot pie. :) **_


	8. Angel Face and a Taste for Suicidal

**_Sorry for the late update :| This past week has been interesting. After having some mental breakdowns and stuff, I finally managed to get my creativity back and now here I am in a hotel room on my brothers graduation night updating just for you :3 I hope I get past 50 reviews :3!_

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Chapter 7

One afternoon I got home from school a bit earlier than I usually do. Not by much, just enough to have the house alone to myself for a good amount of time before Hell walks through that door. I tossed the mail on the kitchen table, kicked my shoes off and turned on the tv, resting my feet on the coffee table.

I had the remote to myself, and instead of watching one of Scott's boring educational shows and MTV shit he likes for some reason, I turn the channel to _Terrance and Phillip._ Real television. Real comedy. It was an episode I've already seen, but it was better than anything Scott watched.

"Say Terrance, what do you call it when a man fucks a pig?"

"I don't know, Phillip."

The Canadian lifted his leg up into his friends face and let out a loud fart, causing both of them and me to laugh. This was what comedy was, and what deserved to be on tv. Not any of those shows Scott watches, like those stupid ones that are those dumb dating shows.

I'm not even halfway into the show when Scott comes home from wherever he was at, and turns off the tv.

"What the fuck, Scott? I was watching that!"

"Eric," he sighs. "We need to talk."

"You can talk when I'm not busy watching tv."

"No," he says in his stupid demanding voice. "Now."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Nothing is probably important, and he probably just wants to make himself feel all the more important than he really is.

"Eric, we're low on money."

Is that the problem? Then maybe someone who's supposed to be the adult should do something.

"Then get a job," I tell him, and he turns an angry shade of red.

"I _have_ a job. What do you think I do all day when you're at school?"

"I dunno, masturbate?"

His face turns red at what I say, but he shakes the thoughts off. "I think it's best if we get rid of some unnecessary items. Do you have anything we could get rid of that might save us some money?"

"We're _not_ getting rid of Mister Kitty. He's _family_," I snap.

"No, we'll keep the stupid cat. Little Fella has some purpose in the house. Keeps away rats an' shit. I'm talking about shit we don't need that we can sell for money."

My thoughts immediately went to my Xbox 360. There was no way in hell I was going to let him sell that. It was mine, and mine only. Only I could touch it, and hell will freeze over before he can get his ginger germs on it.

"No, I don't have anything," I lied.

"Bullshit." Scott smirked. "I saw the Xbox in your room. We don't need it, Eric. Think about what we _do_ need. If we sell it, we'll have more money. More money means better food."

"It's _mine_. You're not getting your ginger Jew hands on it."

"Okay, fine," he sighed going into the kitchen. He picked up some letter that was on the table and opened it. His face went pale and he muttered a string of curse words under his breath. I could see his face growing a dark shade of red; a shade I've never seen on him before.

It was pretty fuckin' scary looking.

He started shouting obscenities, his hands entangled in his ginger hair. His rage grew and before I knew it, he started throwing objects. I thought it'd pass in a minute or so, which is why I stood as far as I could. But as soon as he threw the old glass against the wall, he threw a fucking chair against the wall, and it _broke. _I realized then it wasn't a good idea for me to be in the house, and I quietly shut Mister Kitty in my room and left.

I didn't know where the hell I was going, but I figured anywhere was better than where I was at. I walked down the streets and ended up right in front of my old house. I saw the stupid for sale sign up front and I hated knowing that some asshole was going to be living in _my_ house.

Some asshole was going to be putting their germs in a place that was supposed to be mine. I didn't have anywhere else to really runaway to, so I remembered about the broken window in the basement and crawled through that.

The basement was fucking creepy. I've always hated the creepiness my basement had, even when I was a little kid. Even at the age of three, I didn't like being alone in my basement and only went down there during a well lit afternoon, or when Mom was in the house.

I went up the stairs to my house and opened the door leading into the kitchen. It was creepy how untouched everything was. There were still the old dishes in the sink, little notes and reminders sticking on the walls of the kitchen, old papers and drawings still hanging on the refrigerator.

There wasn't any food inside, which I kinda figured, but I was to expect that. After all, there was no power in the house anymore, some stupid asshole must have shut if off since no one's in the house anymore.

Everything in the house looked just as it was left. I went upstairs to see Mom's room, and nothing was touched. It was really creepy to know that everything was where Mom last left it. It was creepy to know that Mom was the last one who laid on her bed, or that she once walked where I was standing.

I couldn't stand the creepiness of her room, so I went to mine—well, my old one. Everything was just like it was left. All my stuff was piled on the floor, and the posters still hung on the wall. Everything was the way _I_ liked it, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

I stayed curled up on my bed for as long as I could remember. I tried to forget about everything that's happened in the past month, and tried to forget about the asshole that Scott is.

I don't really remember how long I was curled up in my bed, but all I remember is that my silence was disturbed by a voice shouting outside.

"_Eric! Eric, where are you? Oh God, what the fuck have I done?"_

I felt a _little _bad that I was causing him to worry, but then I thought again and realized this was his entire fault, so I disregarded my previous thoughts. He's an asshole that deserves this. If he learns to control himself than maybe I wouldn't have had to run off like this.

It was really fucking creepy to hear the jiggle of the doorknob downstairs, and it reminded me of those fucking aliens that tried to kidnap me that one time. I fucking hate aliens; they scare the shit out of me and tend to ram shit up my ass.

Goddamn fags.

The door knob clinked again and out of habit of hiding from aliens, I pulled the sheets over my head to protect myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and started rocking back and forth.

"Please," I whined. "Don't fucking put that shit up my ass again. Y-you don't want me." I wanted to sound all tough and cool, but aliens really don't give a shit about that stuff. You can't threaten to kick them in the nuts, either, since they tend to have some sort of holographic nuts.

"What shit? I'm not going to stick anything up your ass."

The voice was all nice an' shit, almost comforting. I almost thought that for a minute Mom wasn't dead and was trying to comfort me from a nightmare. Y'know, those creepy ones where all the minorities and Jews start taunting you and taking away your hard earned money then some alien comes and shoves something up your ass. Those dreams are fucking hell.

"Mom?" I ask the comforting voice. After all, Scott's too big a dick to be nice.

"No, it's me, Eric." The voice pulls the covers off my head revealing the Ginger-Jew-Half-brother of mine. His ginger face is all red and he actually looks _scared_. His eyes are red and puffy like he was crying, but that really can't be. "Why are you alone in the dark?" he asks.

"No power."

"Why are you even here?"

"You're fuckin' psycho. One minute you're all calm, and then you're like the fuckin' hulk. "

"I'm really sorry," he apologizes. "I-I can't help it. It's like an uncontrollable time bomb or something. I never intend for any of this to happen. One little trigger sets me off and I explode."

"People like _you_ shouldn't be trusted with children then."

He scratches at his red hair. "I know. But what can I do? Custody was granted to _me,_ and it's the only thing your mother ever wanted."

"I think Mom would rather I be safe than with you."

He just lets out a sigh. "Whatever, kid. Let's get home."

For some strange reason I agreed with his request. Maybe it was because it was fucking creepy being in this house alone, or maybe it had something to do with having food in our house. I was only two feet behind him when we were walking down the street when I swear I heard him mutter, "Thank God he's alright."

Aww, how cute. Scott has emotions.

'Bout time that bastard showed some.

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_**Reviews are love! You lucky reviewers get terrance and phillip dolls this time :D **_


	9. Until you Love Yourself

**_12 reviews for the past chapter? Thank you guys SO much :) The fact I have 60 reviews is super awesome, and I love hearing your feedback. Also, to be a dork and be all self promotional an' stuff, go check out my new one shot called _**_Cute Without the E** as I worked for over a month on that fic. It's a Stan x Red Goth Fic, so reviews would be lovely.**_

**_Also, I've been thinking of doing a contest for this story involving fanart and the winner getting a south park one shot(or possibly a music video, as I've been wanting to work on my amv skills) of their choice. Any pairing, any plot line... If enough of you guys find this interesting, let me know in a review and I'll post the info and rules in the next chapter AN :) _**

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Chapter 8

One month and a half has passed since I've been forced to live here with Scott, and it's been anything but fun. I've been to hell and back it seems, and besides that one time sight of caring, he's been the same stupid ginger.

He still makes me eat healthy and do my homework, and I actually _lost_ weight. Not much, but whatever. He still has his stupid mood swings, and when I got home from that time I ran away, he actually _broke_ my door.

The stupid asshole _broke_ my Xbox during one of his mood swings and with my fucking luck the insurance plan it came with expired. Scott says I don't need video games anyways, but he's fucking crazy. Speaking of crazy, that stupid bitch from school called my house and had some long as hell conversation with Scott.

I really fucking hate that bitch.

I thought at first it was some teacher calling and I was expecting some stupid lecture when he got off the phone, but instead he just nodded his head and dialed up another number. Scott and whoever talked on the phone for a while before he hung up and went to take one of his pill things.

He told me after that time I ran away that he thinks he lost it was because his medication went up, which caused him to stress out. Apparently his crazy medicine is extremely expensive, and without it he has tons of mood swings.

So now he's a crazy pill popping Ginger Jew.

When I saw what he did to my Xbox, I tried all I could to get revenge on him. I wanted to do something terrible to him, something that says don't fuck with Eric Cartman, but I couldn't think of anything to do. I couldn't think of anything to do to make him suffer. It was like he had nothing left to his name. Then I remembered I killed his parents because they were the only thing he cared about, and without that he has _nothing_ left. I couldn't break him because he was already broken.

Goddammit.

How do you break what's already been broken?

I was sitting in math class today, working on something about exponents or some shit. You know, that shit about X but you can't add it or something. The middle school has to know that all of us who had Mister or Ms or whatever Garrison is/was whatever… never learned about math.

We learned about stuff like soap operas and who the ugliest skank was and about his dates with men who thought he was a woman, or his raging lesbianness. Actually, we learned nothing really in his class, but we somehow all managed to pass those stupid state tests that keep our school functioning.

I was in the middle of math when I heard the voice on the loud speaker. I thought I was in trouble again as my name was called on the loud speaker. But then I heard the voice tell me to bring my things with me, which meant I was leaving.

I heard mutters of "Lucky asshole" as I walked out the door, but I didn't actually know how lucky I was. Something was going to happen, and I didn't really want it to. Scott was probably taking me to some place to get tortured, like to the eye doctor or dentist or something. I fucking hate the eye doctor, he always calls me fat and makes fun of me, and the dentist acts like a retard and tells me not to eat the way I do, that what I eat will destroy my teeth.

Whatever.

I saw Scott waiting by his beat up truck, with some look on his face.

"Hurry up Eric, or we're gonna be late."

"Late for what?" I asked. He looked relatively calm today, and I was wondering if there was a reason for that. That maybe he was trying to act all sweet to win whoever we were going to see over.

"Doctors appointment. Your stupid school counselor told me she met with you, and said that it would be best if we went to see someone about it. Apparently you're _depressed_ and _emotionally disturbed. _She said that you need help and shit. Apparently if you're not happy or perky all the time then something's wrong with you, even if a bad mood's only temporary. So now I had to take off today to take you to this stupid psychologist in Denver. "

"I don't need help; I'm not crazy like you."

Scott's face tensed as he gripped on the wheel. He looked like he was trying to ignore my comment. He's such a pussy, and his music choice sucks. Whenever I'm in the car with him, he forces me to listen to his bands screaming in my ear, and _he_ controls the CD player in the car.

It fucking sucks.

Forty five minutes later we arrived at the doctor's office, and went inside. The placed looked like it was for fucking five year olds. The place was decorated in bright gay colors and there were so many fucking kid shit there. Like all these broken toys and shit.

Some little shit came up to me and tugged on my pant legged.

"What," I grumbled. I didn't want to be here. Scott was over getting some paper work thing, and I was supposed to be sitting here.

"Why is your tummy so big?" The little fuck asked me. "Is there a baby in there?"

I flipped the bird to the little kid as the mother gave me a glare. Scott came back over with a clipboard of papers and muttered some stuff marking down some stuff on the forms.

"Your middle name is Isaac?" I laughed. "What a dork. That's such a faggy name."

"It's our great uncles name, you twit. He was really important to Dad. Besides, it's less faggy than the name Theodore."

I huffed. "How'd you know that?"

"I read up on you, remember?"

"Whatever," I said, swinging my legs back and forth. I was so fucking bored. Scott filled out some more of the papers and then turned them back in to the secretary and we waited some more.

It was about twenty minutes of waiting before our names were called.

"Tenorman? Eric and Scott Tenorman?"

"Cartman," I muttered. I didn't want to have our names associated with each other, let alone have them called out like we were gay for each other.

"Last room on the left there. The doctor will be in a minute. Makes yourselves comfortable."

I slumped into the most comfortable spot in the sofa and placed my hands across my chest. Scott sat on the far side from the couch, away from me. The stupid bitch that came in noticed how we were sitting and scratched something down.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Cray. Now which one of you is Eric, and which is Scott?"

Scott, that stupid asshole took over, using whatever authority power he could have at any given chance. "I'm Scott, and this Is Eric. We're so glad you have the time to meet with us." He gave one of his fake smiles he worse so well. He shook her hand, and I didn't bother to move mine. Bitch shouldn't be a doctor; she should be bakin' me a pie or something.

"Alright," she said. "So are you two brothers?" She asked.

"_Half_ brothers," I added with a scowl.

"Really? Do you share a Mom or a Dad?"

"Dad," Scott said.

"Really," was all that stupid bitch said. She didn't have a very good vocabulary to be a doctor. Society must be low on therapists. "So I see that you two are living together now. What brought you two together?"

"None of your goddamn business," I snapped and Scott glared.

"The passing of his mother."

"Oh my," the stupid bitch said in fake sympathy. "I'm so sorry. How is it working out living with your brother and his family?"

"My parents are dead," Scott added and Bitch did another fake gasp.

"How on Earth did that happen?"

"_Don't_ tell the fucking story, Scott," I snapped.

"She has the fucking right to know, fat turd."

"Don't call me fat, you fucking Jew!"

"Don't belittle your own people, you fat twat!"

"I'm not fucking fat you fuck!"

"My my," she cut both of us off. "You both certainly have _colorful_ vocabulary. Apparently we'll be here longer than I thought. Do you boys fight often?"

"When you live with the devil, it's hard not to," I spat, sticking my tongue out at Scott. He returned the gesture as she wrote something down on her notepad.

"If you just stop being a spoiled brat than maybe I'd be nicer," he snapped back.

"How did your squabbling start? Is there a trigger? What is the _cause _of all this tension? Scott?" She looked at him, and I gave him a glare. He better not tell that story. I was _nine _for Christ's sake. I didn't know.

"It started off when I was fourteen. My friends and I played a joke on Eric, before he knew me. He overreacted and tried to prank me back in so many ways. Well, his final act was making a chili con carnaval."

"That's nice of him," she said and Scott glared.

"He had my parents ground up into chili and made me eat them."

I saw the look on her face and it was so funny. She didn't believe him, and that was sweet. She didn't look like she believed Scott, that a little boy could do this.

"Eric?"

"I apologized. I apologized like, twice! Fruit basket and all!"

"You don't feel guilty about murdering your father?"

I shrugged. "Well, a little," I admitted. "But this was before I knew. Besides, he was a _ginger_."

"But that makes you half ginger then," she says like I didn't know that. She doesn't need to tell me what I already know.

"I'm not stupid," I said. "I knew that long before you stated the facts."

"Well," she said, not knowing what else to say. She looked at the both of us before continuing her job. "Well, it's common for brothers to fight. It's common to feel uncomfortable around each other at first. I'm sure you boys have more in common than you think. We'll start off with an easy question. Eric, do you love your brother?"

I saw that look the ginger had in his eyes and answered honestly. "No."

The bitch looked appalled. "I'm sure you do, Eric. You just don't know it yet." She let out some stupid laugh about how little boys don't understand love.

I'm not little; I'm twelve for Christ's sake. I turn thirteen in July. Then from there it only gets better. "If I loved him then why would I run away?"

"You ran away?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He's a crazy psycho path. He's like the fuckin' hulk."

The bitch looked at Scott for an explanation.

"I'm bipolar," Scott admits, and the woman nods her head.

"I see. And how did that make you feel Scott, knowing Eric was lost?"

I'm waiting for his rehearsed answer, but he looks at his feet and answers. "Worried. Scared, even. He's my only family left. We're all we have left, Eric."

The bitch looks all happy and wipes away tears at his remarks. He's probably faking it. I see his face hiding in his hands with water around them.

He was fucking crying.

Either he's really good at faking, or he really meant it.

Dumbass.

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_**Reviews? And Happy Memorial Day Weekend to all you USAers! I hope you all have a safe fun weekend, and if you're going to any drunken barn dances, just remember that drunken sex could equal an Eric Cartman baby :P (so in short, avoid fucking with anyone named Liane Cartman or the 1990 Denver Broncos)...This counts as my good advice for this story...You could really just ignore that ramble...just remember to review :D**_


	10. Your Reject, All American

**_This is going to be a long as hell authors note today. Only because I'm putting the contest info in here. The contest? Fan art for this fic, Welcome to Hell. Judging will be me and my girlfriend. Rules: must be anytype of fan art. It can be anything, as long as it deals with this fic. Only one entry per person. All entries must be submitted on deviant art. If you want to upload on a different site, just make sure the link to your fan thing is on deviant art. I'll have a journal set up where you can submit your entry. My deviant is Comet80, and it's listed on my profile. If you don't have a account on deviant art, it's free and easy to join, not to mention it has a great south park community. Currently the deadline will probably be in July, since go on a two week trip the last week of June. But I'll give an offical date later. Winners get either a fanfic of their choice written by me, any pairing of their choice, any thing they want. OR a music video with pairing and song of their choice. Winner's choice. Winner also gets a one month sub to deviant art. So anyone interested can join. :)_**

**_Thank you for the reviews :)_**

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Chapter 9

We were free to go that afternoon and since there was not enough time to go back to school, Scott pulled into the parking lot of a Pizza Hut. I was surprised, since he had said that going out wasted our money and that he was doing this with whatever emotions he had.

The waitress led us to a table and placed the menus in front us and left. I didn't say anything and kept my eyes focused on the menu. I was debating on either one of those huge pizzas with the stuffed crust, or to just get the lunch buffet.

But Scott had to ruin it for me by ordering _his_ choice in pizza. It had fuckin' mushrooms and pineapple on it, and some black stuff. I think they were olives, but whatever they were they were gross.

"Do you not like this pizza, Eric? I'll order you a personal pan if you want," he said, trying to sound like he was such a nice guy. He was being all nice an' shit and I know he isn't really this nice.

I told him what I wanted and he just ordered a plain cheese pizza. What the fuck?

"I asked for more than just _cheese,_ Scott."

"I know, but I'm not going to waste money on crap that goes against my religion. No ham, no pepperoni."

"But _I'm_ not one of those."

"But _I'm_ buying. When you get a job and earn money, then you can buy whatever pizza toppings you wish. My money, my rules."

He's such a fucking douche.

To make it worse, that stupid bitch said that it'd be good if me and Scott spent time together. Like we actually had to _do_ something together, something to help us "bond." She said that it'd be good to do some sibling thing together and learn something about family.

Bitch is on crack.

We finished our pizza a little later and took the rest home. When we got home, I noticed that the lights on the answering machine were blinking, which probably wasn't good.

I've lived here for about a month or so, and _no one_ ever calls us. We both have cell phones, but the landline is usually for the annoying people that call. Y'know, doctors and hippies selling shit. The thing was blinking over and over and wouldn't stop, and it was pretty annoying.

Scott came into the living room from doing whatever the hell he was doing and saw the blinking light.

"Well just don't stand there, the light's blinking. You won't hear the message staring at the damn light. Go on; press it."

I pressed the button as the high pitch monotone voice came on.

"_You have ONE new message. Hello, this is Jane Goodman, Eric Cartman's social worker. I'm calling to inform you that Liane Cartman's house has recently been sold and that Eric is asked to pick up any important possessions from the house. If not, whatever is left will either be trashed or given away. Please call me back when you get this message. I hope all is well! You have ZERO new messages."_

The bitch sold my house. My house was going to officially be run by some goddamn dumbasses, hopefully none of which are hippies. Everything in my house has to go, _goddammit_. It's all MY stuff, MINE.

I hate how that bitch is making me shove twelve years of life into boxes to be pushed away into some damn attic.

Scott stands there for a minute, taking in the message before he calls that stupid bitch back.

"Saturday," is all he says.

"What?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You need to pick up your mother's shit; we're forced to bond. We'll do it Saturday afternoon after Temple."

"I told you I'm not going back to that fucking Jew church. Everyone in there is creepy."

"I'm not making you go, you know, Eric. I'm _forcing you_. So Saturday after Temple we'll go over and sort through some of your mom's shit."

"Ey! Don't call my mom's stuff shit," I snapped. It probably was a bunch of shit, but still, it was hers.

"Okay, fine," he corrected. "We'll go through your mother's _stuff._ Happy?"

"Not really," I replied.

"Good." He didn't seem to listen to my answer. "Now go get your spelling words; don't you have a spelling test tomorrow?"

I hated how he _knew_ what days my tests were. He knew about whatever test I had, and he'd force me to study until the information was drilled into my brain.

He dragged my backpack into the kitchen and pulled out my English notebook and began writing down this week's spelling words. I always thought spelling tests were more for elementary school kids, than middle school, but apparently I had to get that one teacher who was obsessed with spelling.

Not to mention, since I was in the lower level English class that seemed to be filled with all the slow kids who suck at everything and take like, an hour for a simple worksheet, we always had more spelling words than usual because everyone in that class sucked at spelling.

Apparently being in a class of retards will cause you to have _more_ homework and tests.

I fucking hate when Scott makes me study with him. He's such an asshole about it and he makes me sit down at the kitchen table and I can't leave or do anything until he says so, or it becomes my bed time. Unfortunately, my bed time usually comes first.

Goddammit.

I'm sitting here bored as fuck out of my mind while he's pounding the word into my head. Because God forbid I spell the word with a z and not an s. Doing that will cause some sort of apocalypse, or be the cause of something tragic, like Scott to grow a soul, or Pussy will eat meat!

"Again Eric. _Advertise."_

I sigh and repeat the word. "_Advertise."_

S-U-C-K-M-Y-B-A-L-L-S

Advertise.

"A-D-V-E-R-T-I-," I suck in my breath and sigh, finishing the word. "S-E. Advertise."

"_Finally,_" the stupid Jew sighs. "I didn't think it was possible for someone to spend twenty minutes on one word alone. Okay, last word. _Accomplishment."_

F-U-C-K-Y-O-U

Accomplishment.

"A-C-O-M-P-L-E-S-H-M-A-N-T"

"Nope. Try again. Really kid, these words aren't that hard. Just spell the damn word right so I can go to bed. I have to go to work early tomorrow, so you got to get ready and shit by yourself. If you're not fucking up in time for school, you're gonna fucking get it. So just spell the damn word right."

"Accomplishment. A-C-C-O-M-P-L-I-S-H-M-E-N-T. Okay, I spelt it right."

He sighed. "It's about time. Now get to fucking bed."

Waking up the next morning to the silence of no Scott was actually pleasant. After feeding Mister Kitty his breakfast, I actually had a good hour before I had to go to the bus stop. I had to get ready first, but even that didn't take so long. I ended up having forty-five minutes before having to leave.

I was running around the kitchen looking for some sort of decent breakfast, when I came across a brown paper bag and a note. I picked up the note and frowned, reading Scott's neat scribbles.

_Eric,_

_I took the liberty of making you a lunch today. Don't you fucking dare throw it out, or I'll fucking know._

I stopped reading. Why the fuck would I throw out a lunch? Sure, his cooking wasn't that great, but hell, it was _food._ I read on, knowing then why he thought I'd throw it out.

_Try it. It's a Kosher lunch, but I assure you it's really not that bad. Just try it, kid. I'm going to ask you what you thought when you get home, so if you give it up, I'll know. Plus, Shell's little brother will tell if you don't!_

_-Scott_

Goddammit. He's even got his dumbass girlfriend and Pussy in on it? This fucking sucks. I grabbed a bowl of whatever cereal was left and took a bite, dreading lunch for this first time in my life.

I trudged all the way to the bus stop, and let out a big sigh as I arrived. Stan and that stupid Jew Boy turned towards me, noticing my sigh. Kenny was too occupied with something across the street to even care.

"What's the matter Cartman?" Stan asks, and I shoot him a glare.

"Yeah Fatass, what did he do now?"

"Goddamn Scott making me eat his stupid-"I stop mid sentence and see Kyle look confused as Stan just raises an eyebrow at me. He really isn't going to tell. He actually _is_ keeping a secret from his fuck toy or whatever. I finish the sentence. "Organic food," I lie. "It's gonna taste like shit," I add.

"If you don't like it, then trade it or something," Stan says, and I want to fucking kill him.

"I can't do that, _Stanley_," I sneer. "You fucking spy."

His face turns red, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit, _Shelley._ She's always fucking getting me into her shit._"_

The stupid Jew looks confused as ever as Stan sighs, and confesses to his super best friend the horrible new boyfriend his sister has. "Shelley has a new boyfriend," Stan says and sighs. "And he's a fucking asshole."

I couldn't agree more.

"So what; she always has dumb boyfriends. What's any of this have to do with Fatass?"

"Shelley's dating Scott Tenorman, and it's fucking gross. Ever since they met that one time at her friend's party, she's been fucking crazy for him."

Both Poor Boy and Jew start laughing at Stan. "So, your sister, and his brother are fucking?"

The imagery in that is fucking gross and Stan barfs, literally.

"Sick, dude."

"So is _hearing_ that shit."

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask. I really don't want to hear about Scott's fuck life. That's just the grossest thing to think about. It's up there with thinking of your parents fucking.

"How about how I'd totally bang that chick. Tell her Stan, next time you see her, to dump the zero and get with a _real_ hero," Kenny says and we all turn towards him.

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose and then barfs again. "Dude, that's my _sister!_"

Kenny receives a punch in the arm and lecture about how wrong it is for him to be wanting to do those things with Stan's older sister.

"That'd be like Karen going out with Ike," Stan adds, and before long Kenny and Jew boy go at it.

"What the fuck's wrong with my sister?"

"She's a whore! What the fuck is wrong with Ike?"

"He's a freak!"

The two don't stop fighting until they get on the bus and sit in separate seats. I took my usual seat with Butters and he grinds his knuckles together.

"Hi Eric!" He chirps, and gives me one of his gay smiles. Even _Butters _got placed into the advanced classes. That just shows how gay school placement tests are. In fifth grade we had to take this "getting ready for middle school" placement test, and if you got over a certain score, you were to be put in the advanced classes. Jew boy, Butters, Stan's Skank, and a few other kids got placed in those classes, leaving poor Pussy without his best friend in most of his classes.

But we all had gym together, if that made anything better. Gym is the class that sucks ass the most, as we have one of the craziest teachers ever. He likes to make us run and play some game he invented when he was a kid that makes no sense. His name is Mister Cooper, but he _insists_ on us calling him Coop.

Gaay.

"Hey Butters," I reply, monotone. Butters hasn't exactly changed since fourth grade. He hangs out with us like he always has, and not much has changed about him. He hasn't hit puberty, so his voice is still the same, and he dresses a lot gayer now that his parents divorced.

Apparently his dad has some fucked up background history that messed up his family. Butters doesn't seem to mind his parents being divorced, he says now he gets to be the man of the house, _and_ his mom lets him wear whatever he wants.

He's currently wearing a pink barrette in his hair and blue zip up jacket. He's such a fag, and yet he still considers us best friends.

"What's the matter, best friend?" He asks, and I just shrug.

I still don't particularly like him, but he's always been that one friend that's always been by my side.

"Is it your brother?" He asks me, and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, Butters. Scott's still a dick."

"Well I'm sure he's just doin' it 'cause he love you."

"Gingers don't love, Butters; they have no soul."

"S-sure they do! Everyone has a soul!"

"No, Butters."

"Well, I'd like to continue this conversation, Eric, but I have to finish this last page of reading before first period. We might have a pop quiz on it, an' I got to be ready!" He pulls out some book that is obviously given to him by the school and flips through to the middle and starts reading.

School is never interesting. Especially English class. We had a teacher who made us grade our tests in class, so I already knew what I got. The kid behind me graded my test, and when I got it back I saw that I actually didn't do that bad and got an eighty-seven on my test. That was a B, so I didn't think I did so bad.

The class came and went and then was what I was dreading: lunch. I sat with the usual people I always sat with, and pulled out my lunch. That Jew raised an eyebrow watching me pull my Jew food out of the paper sack.

"_That's_ your lunch?"

"No," I say sarcastically, "it's my homework."

"This shit looks familiar," the Jew says, and I wonder how the fuck he got into his advanced classes.

"No shit," I reply and he gives a smirk.

"That's Kosher food," he says. "I know because it's similar to the food my aunt makes us eat when we visit. Why the fuck are you eating Kosher food?" He asks before knitting his eyebrows together. "Is Scott Jewish?"

I make no remark and continue my lunch.

"He is, isn't he?"

"Scott's not a Jew. No one in _my_ family is ever, and will ever be, a dirty Jew-rat," I say to him and Stan gives me a weird look.

"He is, Stan, isn't he?"

I'm going to shove that celery up Pussy boy's ass if he says yes.

"I'm not getting into this," he says, and walks away. He goes back over to the table where that skank is sitting and tries to apologize, but Bebe protects Wendy.

"Get away from her, Stan! You already damaged her enough!"

"I told you it was an accident," he squeaks. "Tell Wendy I'm sorry, and that it's not really that big of a deal!"

"It's over Stanley," the bitch snaps. "I can't be with someone who can't respect me."

"Respect? What the fuck? It was just an accident, Wends, I said I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, well, apologize to THIS!" she shouts, shoving one of her long black locks into Stan's face.

"I'm not saying sorry to your hair, Wendy. It was an accident. It'll grow back!"

"Eight years, Stanley Marsh. I've been growing my hair this long for eight years," she says angrily. "Then _you_ had to stick that shit on something, causing it to get _stuck_ in my hair."

"It's just hair!"

Bebe's pissed off too, and she and Wendy together give Stan some giant glare of death. "You don't understand how important this is to girls, Stanley," Bebe sneers. "Wendy's mourning."

"You mourn the death of a person, or dog or something, not a fucking haircut."

"Just go away Stan!" Wendy snaps again, and Stan comes back to the table and sighs.

"Jesus Christ, girls are fucking complicated."

"What'd you do," Jew boy asks.

"Apparently my stick of gum fell out of my mouth onto her hair before we kissed, and now she's all pissed off at me.

"Aren't you not supposed to chew gum anyways," Jew Boy says. "Isn't it bad for braces?"

"I don't really care," Stan sighs. "So now Wendy's all crying acting like the world's ended, and the girls are all comforting her."

"So she broke up with you because she has to get a haircut?"

"I think so," Stan sighs.

Girls are really fucking weird.

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_**Filler chapter. Lol. It was an accident. But I wanted to break up Stan and Wendy because I see them break up over little squabbles. Plus, I would so understand Wendy's POV seeing as I had hair to my ass up until last summer... And Stan has braces. Poor boy is in his awkward stage in life. But he doesn't have head gear. I won't torture him that much. :3**_

**_Sorry for rambles...Reviews? You all get some Tweaks's Coffee or that gum in Wendy's hair. xD. Or Cartman's Kosher Food. :]_**


	11. Tales from Another Broken Home

**_Ten chapters already? Thank you all for the reviews! As for the contest: c'mon guys, join! If you're worried about your artistic skills(or lack of), don't worry! Trust me, I am in no shape a great artist. just remember, any of you have a shot! so submit and enjoy this brotherly bond chapter :D_****

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******

Chapter 10

Apparently Wendy _did_ break up with Stan, and the next day at school she was ignoring him, as were all the girls. So now Pussy couldn't get pussy. He even tried to complement her by saying her new hair looked nice and stuff, but she flipped him off.

Watching those two fight never gets old.

This morning fucking sucked. I had to wake up early and go to Scott's stupid Jew church. The service was long, and it was boring as fuck. He kept nudging me to pay attention, but that was pretty much impossible.

The ending announcement was the worst thing I have ever heard. Apparently they're trying to start some "tween group" as they like to call it. Something to "rekindle the youth's excitement in Judaism", by having some sort of lock in thing. Scott keeps poking at me, but there's no way in hell I'm going.

I still haven't managed to see Jew Boy here, so it's all been pretty good. Well, as good as its gonna get. After he finished talking to some of his friends again, he went over to where some bitch was standing and started talking to her.

Fuck. She was the bitch who was in charge of that gay lock in thing. He scratches down something and then comes over to me, acting all happy and shit.

"Ready to go, Eric?"

I don't even reply, as I'm halfway out the door. I get into the seat of his truck, as we head off to part two of this wonderful day.

"You're really not going to make me go to that thing, are you?"

"I dunno, it might be nice for you to meet some kids your age here. Maybe if you make some friends, going to Temple wouldn't be so bad. I didn't like it when I was your age, but then Dad forced me to go, and I made some friends. But then I lost them when you drove me to insanity…."

"You don't need to go on about that," I warn.

"I'm not _going to_," he replies back, annoyed. "And we're here. " He pulls out a giant tub from the back of his truck and drags it into the house. "Just gather the _important_ things, like pictures and shit. All furniture and shit stays."

We go into the living room, and he starts to snicker at all the pictures on the mantle. We go through all the pictures on the mantle (and there's a fucking lot) one by one. Mom had an obsession with documenting me, so there were tons of photos of me all over. It was easy to tell I was her only child.

Scott snickers at one of my mom's favorite pictures. You're not supposed to be taking pictures of a kid taking a crap, but Mom did. I was two and a half, naked, and sitting on the toilet. I wouldn't be surprised if it was after a bath, too.

"We're so getting this framed and hung up by the entrance," Scott says with a smirk. "And if there's a video for this, we're so watching it."

I mumble and shove the picture into the box, ignoring the caption: _Eric took a poo poo on the potty! What a big boy he is, pooping by himself! _I place the picture in along with all the birthday and Christmas photos, the big family portrait being placed on top.

After that we scatter around the house gather little trinkits and useless shit that's really only important to keep. We go to my mom's next to last, and it's creepy being in there. I check around her room seeing if there's anything important to take, but so far there's nothing important.

I find it a bit weird at first that Mom didn't have much of me in her room, except two pictures. One, was one of those stupid professional pictures of me taken before I was old enough to remember, and the second one was taken when I was nine right after all the celebrities attacked. It was of me and Scott, both of us scowling not wanting to be in the picture. Mom wrote on the back: _Eric and his half-brother Scott!_ like both of us were dying to be in the picture.

I put those in the box as well, and went into Mom's closet. She used to hide birthday presents in there, like that one blow up doll I got for Christmas one time. That doll sucked too, it popped the next day. I didn't know exactly what I was searching for when I came across a giant box labeled _Precious Memories_. I opened the lid and was shocked to find every fucking thing I have ever done in here.

You know those gay art projects you do in elementary school for holidays? Apparently Mom kept every single one of those, along with all my written stories and everything.

Scott came in the room, dragging the box behind him. "Is there anything left in-what the fuck is that?"

"My box. "

"Of?"

"Mom apparently kept all the shit I did." I dug around in the box and pulled out a crappy old drawing. It was large and ugly, and was so shitty drawn. On the front that is. On the back it was labeled "Eric's first drawing, age three. What a beautiful self portrait!"

"Why the fuck do you have green hair?" Scott asks, staring at the picture.

"I don't know." I put the drawing back in the box and pull out the report I did in first grade.

_Why I Love My Mommy_

_By Eric Cartman_

_I love my mommy. I love my mommy becuze she is nice. She is nice becuz she buys me lots of prezents. My mommy is also fun. I love my mommy._

I grinned to myself; I was one hell of a smart kid. I even knew back then if I sucked up to her, she'd buy me stuff. Of course, you have to manipulate them in the right way.

Mom kept everything I ever did, even stuff I wish she'd of thrown out. She even kept shit like my baby hair in a little plastic bag with a note attached. _Eric's first haircut! He was a squirmy little man in the seat, he didn't like to obey orders, but he looks very handsome!_

Mom kept note of everything I did, regardless of what it was. She was taking notes like everything I did was super important. But then again, it was all about _me_ so it probably was important. After all, I am a pretty important person.

Even after spending an hour and a half shoving all my old crap my mom kept into the blue tub, we still had the attic to cover. Most of that probably wasn't anything important, but we still had to go see.

We went into the attic, which still smelled from the time I hid all the cats up there, and Scott went straight to this one box that had my name on it. Aside from some old baby clothes and photo albums, there were a shit ton of old video tapes.

I was really hoping none of them were from Mom's "work." The last thing I need to see is people "working" with Mom. I pulled out some, and thankfully most of them seemed to be about me, except for a few, which weren't worth looking at.

The last box in the corner hidden behind a bunch of dust was labeled _Forbidden_, and I immediately opened it up. All of it was Denver Bronco shit, ranging from a signed football to jerseys to videos of the games that were the cause of me not knowing my father. There was even a signed photograph of the team, and I made sure to keep everything hidden from Scott.

He'd have a fucking shit fit if he was to see something relating to the Denver Broncos, or anything having to deal with one of his parents. He's a big fucking pussy when it comes to dealing with death. It was his fault anyways.

I wanted to throw all that shit out, give it away to some museum or something, but I couldn't. There's always been that one part of me that I fucking hate. It's the part of me that used to cry at night because I didn't have a Dad like all my friends did, or the part of me that spent hours crying about the fact _I_ killed my own dad. Not physically, but it was all part of my plan.

Even if he was a ginger, I still have SOME guilt. I'm not completely soulless; I'm not all ginger after all.

"What's that?" Scott asks, as he walks over to the giant box. He opens it up and he doesn't hold anything in. "Dad?" he says to the box, and starts rummaging through it. He pulls out the shit and starts staring at all of it.

We're going to be stuck here for a while. He pulls out a video tape and reads the label.

"I was at this game!" he exclaims loudly, and he's having fun going back into memories I don't care about. "Mom took me out of school for this game. She spent the day buying me all sorts of junk food and introduced me to the team and everything. I thought it was the coolest fucking thing," he says, and I don't think he's even talking to me.

"I don't really care," I say, and he looks at me.

"This is the _only_ shit you have to remember your-_our_ dad by, and you don't care?"

"Not really, nope," I say emotionlessly.

"You should care. Dad later confessed that he _wanted_ to be a part of your life. He visited you once or twice in the hospital, but under a false name so no one would recognize him. He _wanted_ to get to know you, and said that one day when you knew who your father was, after all the chaos of football season wearing off, he'd confess and make it up to you."

I looked into the box again, seeing if anything was worth selling, even though I know I couldn't do it. I saw some things that weren't even football related in the bottom of the box and picked them out. One was a package with a card taped on it. I pulled off the card and read it. _Happy First Birthday!_ It read, along with a bunch of typical birthday card shit. The end of the card had I guess what his handwriting was. _Happy Birthday Son! Love, Daddy._

I could feel my heart pounding, but I chose to ignore that emotion and ripped open the package that was almost eleven years old. It was a brown stuffed horse, a bronco, probably. It was all musty and old, and when I saw no one looking, I gave it a quick hug. It was weird knowing that I was hugging something that was last touched by my dad.

The last thing I picked out of the box was a fading yellow envelope. It was addressed to me, and even if it wasn't, that wasn't going to stop me from reading it. The lines of the cheap notebook paper were fading, and the ink was a little smudged from being in an attic for over twelve years.

_Eric,_

_If you're reading this letter than you probably know by now that I am your father, despite what your mother has told you. If not, then well, I'm your father. My name's Jack Tenorman, and I play for the Denver Broncos. _

_I didn't want to have to hide any of this from you, but your mother said it was best. We were in one of our best years ever, and we couldn't afford to have anything keep us from winning, or have anything that wasn't football occupy our minds._

_I can't say I was in love with your mother, because I wasn't. The boys and I on the team went to a lot of parties during that season, and mistakes were made. Just because I made the mistake of sleeping with your mother, doesn't mean I regret having you as a son._

_I always wanted two sons, but my wife Linda said that our Scott was enough. You have an older brother, Eric. I hope one day you two can meet and have that brotherly bond I always wanted my sons to have. _

_I really hope you're still young as you read this, and that your mother didn't give you this letter when you're on your death bed or something. If you are still young, then I hope to meet you some day, and learn all about you._

_I would love to be that father figure in your life, if you haven't already got one. I would love to learn everything about you, from your favorite color to your biggest aspirations in life. I would love to know if you still have that dark brown hair and chocolate eyes you were born with, or if you perhaps changed along with them._

_I would love to make an appearance at one of your little league games, or soccer matches or whatever after school activity you're involved in. Just send me a list of dates and times of your event, and I'll try my best to make an appearance at as many as I can, if you want me there._

_If you didn't get this letter until you're older, or about to bite the dust, I'd still like to meet with you and learn about you, and your past. I would love to meet your family and children, if you had any, and learn about your life and experiences you went through growing up._

_I never wanted to be completely absent from your life, and even if I may have never been there physically, you are still my son, and I still love you, no matter what your mother has said._

_Love,_

_Daddy._

I looked at the wet spots on the paper thinking they were already there as I felt my eyes.

Fuck, they were running. I shoved my hand up to my eye and starting wiping away my tears, not wanting anyone to know I was ever crying.

Scott came up to the attic to put that box in his truck and stopped and stared at me. "Are you crying?"

"No," I said quickly, hiding the letter.

"What's that in your hand?"

"Nothing," I said, putting it behind my back.

"Yes there is," he replied back, pinning me down and grabbing it. He read the first line. "Awwh, wittle Ewic misses his Dada?" he teased in baby talk.

I should be the one teasing him; I don't have a fit every time someone mentions football or the Denver Broncos.

"No, now give it back, Scott!"

"Why?"

"It's _mine_. Dad wrote it for _me_."

"So, I own you, so I own it."

That side of me I fucking hate came out. "_Please_ Scott," I whined. "It's all I have of him. You knew him, and I never did." I looked at the floor, trying to blink back the tears. I hated the words that came out of my mouth, how pathetic I sounded at the words.

I hated how I was breaking down over my one _real_ weakness.

Scott lowered the piece of paper. "You seriously care _that_ much about this piece of paper?"

I bit on my lip, something that was so out of the ordinary for me. "Yes," I whispered softly.

"Fine." He handed the paper back to me. "I don't see why it means that much to you, but whatever." He put the tub in the back of his truck, still noticing the note clutched in my hand. I was holding onto that thing for my fucking life.

"Hey…" Scott said to me softly, "Do you, Do you want me to put that in a frame or something so it doesn't get ruined…?"

I moved my head slowly, nodding, and held on to the paper as Scott put the truck in drive and drove away from my old house one last time, and I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_**Reviews? Reviewers get their own Jack Tenorman football :3 Or any embarassing picture if Eric Cartman. -giggle-**_


	12. And Everyday is the Worst Day Ever

**_Holy shit, thank you for the reviews. I am sorry for not updating this thing...but I am now. You can thank the newest episode for that. It just gave me an urge to update. SO I'm updating while listening to Stan's little anti-bullying song. And everyone who is reading this, and has been, I appreciate you for sticking around even when I haven't been..I love all you reviewers :) :)_**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park. It was always a dream of mine to work for them, but sadly, I could never handle their 80+ hour weeks...**_

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No, goddammit, I'm NOT going!"

"You're going, and that's final!"

"You're not my fucking parent, you can't tell me what to do!"

"You're going, or else!"

"Or else, what?" I challenged him. He had nothing on me.

"I found THIS when I was at your house. Someone likes a little friend of theirs more than they thought, eh?" He slapped the picture down on the table revealing a photo from when I was nine and stuck Butter's penis in my mouth.

"If you don't go, I'm going to send this picture to everyone in town."

"No you're not." He was bluffing. I know he was. "And I'm not going to your Jew thing," I added.

"Yes you are, and I already have the picture saved on my email. All I have to do is press send. I even have a poster size behind the couch."

"You're lying, Scott."

"Am I?" He smirked, pulling the poster size picture out from behind the couch. It was all there; everything was in detail. There was that picture from when I was nine and was sticking Butter's penis in my mouth.

"You fucking Jew!" I shouted at him.

"Ah, ah," he warned, wagging his finger. "It's not nice to belittle your own people, Eric. You either go to that lock in, or everyone sees this picture."

"Fucking asshole," I muttered.

"With you at your lock in, I can finally take Shelley to that new restaurant outside of town she's been dying to try," he says to himself. I could really care less about that. All I know is I'm going to a fucking Jew lock in, with a bunch of Jews. Twenty-four hours of Jew games.

Whoopee.

I find myself sitting in Scott's truck with a sleeping bag in my hand. He actually forced me to go to this stupid Jew thing. At least it's not at that Jew church, but in the community center. As if _that's_ any better.

Scott treats me like I'm five and walks me to the door of the community center. He won't let me leave, and I really want to fucking leave. I don't want to be stuck with a bunch of nerdy Jew's for a night of "Good Jewish Fun."

I freeze when I hear a familiar voice entering the doorway. "But Ma! This place is full of dorks!"

"Now, now Bubbie, it won't be so bad. Who knows, maybe you'll meet a nice Jewish girl."

"I don't want to stay, Ma!'

"_KyIe,"_ that fat bitch warned. "You're staying. Making some new friends is good for you; people are going to start thinking you and Stanley are _too_ close."

Now I really wanted to get out of here.

"Look Bubbie, I think I see one of your friends from school!" I forgot I didn't have a hat anymore, and lost some fucking pounds. She probably mistook me as Clyde. Apparently we look alike, but we're as alike as Pussy Boy and Craig.

She pushed that Jew over in my direction, leaving the building. Scott did the same thing.

Goddammit.

Jew boy was walking towards me, and I needed a way to get away from him. I couldn't think of anywhere to go, until I saw the bathrooms down the hall. I was making my way towards the room as that stupid bitchy chaperone stopped me.

"Where are you going?" she asked in a chipper voice.

"To take a piss."

"You can do that later," she sang-song. "Come join us," she looked down at my sticker name tag I was forced to wear. "Eric! We're gonna start an icebreaker!"

"No-"I was cut off by the bitch pulling me in towards the group of kids, Jew Boy scowling amongst them.

"Cartman? What the fuck are you doing here, Fatass?"

"I could ask you the same thing." I smirked at him.

"I'm fucking _Jewish; _I'm forced to all these things. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Community service," I lied. "I was sent here as punishment. Y'know, that's just how I roll."

"That thing happened when you were nine; I doubt you're here for that."

Goddammit, that bitch came at the wrong time.

"Eric, Kyle, come join us! You're gonna miss all the fun!"

That stupid Jew smirked at me. "I knew it; I knew it all along! Scott's Jewish, isn't he? I know I've seen his name before! I saw him at Jew Scouts before!"

"So Scott's been to your Jew church _once_ or twice. He's not that serious of a Jew, really."

"He's a fucking regular, Cartman. Now I remember; he was that weird kid that always stayed after and came early to set up for stuff. He makes you eat Kosher. You're fucking Jewish," that asshole starts to laugh. "_The_ Eric Cartman, is part Jew. This is fucking priceless. This is _the_ best day of my life. Eric Cartman is part Jewish, ginger, and his half-brother is his worst enemy. Holy shit if I die right now, my life would be fucking complete," he keeps laughing. "Guess karma really bit you in the ass."

"Scott may be Jewish, but _I'm_ not."

"It's in your blood now, Cartman." He looks at his gay looking shoes. "Does this mean you're gonna lay off the Jew jokes?"

"Fuck no. I lost weight and you still call me Fatass."

"You lost weight?"

"Almost fifteen pounds, I think. Goddamn Jew food."

"It's not the best food I ever ate," Jew boy says. "Kosher food isn't all that great. I really want to try some bacon, but it's not goddamn Kosher," he mutters.

"You've never had bacon?"

"Duh," he replied.

"It's the best fucking thing ever. I don't see how _anyone_ could not like bacon."

"Well, no bacon for me until I leave the house or something. It fucking sucks being Jewish sometimes."

"You got that right," I add and he looks at me, in a way that wasn't the hating way he usually did.

"Are we, are we having a moment?" He asks and I let out a snort.

"Course not, Kahl. _We_ don't have moments. Moments are for fags. Like Stan. Or Scott when he's thinking of his stupid girlfriend."

"Is it weird?" He asks.

"Is what?"

"Living with your half-brother. Knowing that he's dating your friend's sister. Knowing that if he and Shelley marry, you'll be related to Stan."

"It's fucking hell."

"I don't really like these things," he admits. Goddammit, why is he opening up so much to me? Doesn't he realize who I am? We've hated each other since kindergarten. "I always get forced to go to these Jewish events, for my mom hopes I met some Jewish kid to hang around with."

"Eric, Kyle, aren't you going to join us? I think it's best if you do."

I don't think I ever would have wanted her to be over here as much as I did now. She stopped this stupid awkward conversation from continuing, and forced us into that gay little circle of Jews. She wanted us to join in her gay little icebreaker, and introduce ourselves in some gay way.

"I thought we'd start off with a fun icebreaker. We all sit in a circle, and one person stands in the middle. The person in the middle says something about themselves, and if that applies to you, then you change seats. However, you can't move next to you, or beside you. This entitles you to meet new people! An example would be I'm wearing shoelaces, and everyone who has shoelaces on their shoes would run across the room and switch seats. It's a fun game!"

I'm not in the mood to play this stupid game, so I plan on getting away with as little as I can. We can't move directly next to us, but the rules didn't say we couldn't move two seats away from us. That was my goal for playing this game.

I didn't want to be stuck in this game, or stuck here. I looked over to my side and see Jew Boy who looks just as thrilled as I am. The stupid ass is copying me and we're both not moving as the game begins.

The dumbasses who start the game are acting like it's the best fucking thing in the world. They're laughing and giggling and acting like this is the best fucking thing ever. I make it through the game without having to go up, but unfortunately for Jew Boy, he got roped into playing.

That icebreaker was finished, but that bitchy chaperone still wasn't satisfied. "Well, it seems not _everyone_ is comfortable yet, so we'll do another icebreaker. Everyone take as much toilet paper as you want." She looked in my direction and walked over towards me." You too, Eric. I promised your brother you'd get involved. Don't you want to meet some friends?"

"Nope," I replied, shaking my head.

"Now don't be shy, I'm sure everyone will like you just fine. I already saw you talking to Kyle. I'm sure you'll make some friends. Now grab some toilet paper, and play the game."

I grabbed a handful of the sheets of paper. The want me to play; I'll play.

"Now, count how many sheets you have. That's the amount of facts you have to say about yourself!" That one kid across the room with half a roll of toilet paper let out a groan. "To make this a bit fairer, you have to state your name and age, before you tell the facts. That way we get to know you better. How about you go first," she says to some girl I don't give a shit about.

They go around the room telling their stupid facts, and that boy who took half the role is standing there naming every detail about his life. I count my sheets of paper and frown. I grabbed ten fucking sheets. I have to tell ten fucking facts.

Jew Boy only grabbed six, fucking asshole. It's his turn next and he's picking at the strings on his jacket, trying to think of gay shit to say.

"My name is Kyle Broflovski and I'm twelve. My birthday is next month and I'll be thirteen. My favorite color is green. I have an adopted brother named Ike. He's from Canada. Um," he looks at his stupid shoes again. "My dad's a lawyer and my mom's a stay at home mom." He finishes and sits down and now it's my fucking turn.

They want to hear facts? I'll give them some fucking facts.

"I'm Eric Cartman and I'm twelve. _I'm_ not Jewish. My half-brother Scott is. He's forcing me here today. Both my parents are dead. My dad was on the Denver Broncos. I never met my dad, as I had him cut up and turned into Chili and fed them to my half-brother," I say, trying to look proud even though inside it fucking bothers me. I see some eyes get wide and give them more to think about. "My favorite movie is _The Passion_ and I fucking love Mel Gibson movies. The most I've ever been grounded for is a few months, seeing as I tried to eliminate some minority group when I was nine." I didn't bother telling them they were Jews, I was trying to eliminate. After all, all minorities suck.

I don't even get to continue my ten facts when the bitch comes over and stares. "o…kay. Thank you, Eric, for that, _interesting_ fact."

I grin proud of myself. I said I didn't want to be associated with the Jews, and most people were too afraid of me to be near me, except for stupid Kyle and some other dumb kid.

Since I got the icebreaker stopped early, we had a little extra time with nothing planned. The stupid chaperone just said it was free time for the next fifteen minutes, and said I could use that time to take a piss.

"Jesus Christ, Fatass, did you really have to mention all that shit?" Jew Boy asks.

"Of course. I don't want to be a shitty Jew, now do I?"

He's about to say something when I feel a tug on my pant leg. Some dumbass kid came over to me.

"What?" I glare at the kid.

"I jus' wanna say, you're like, _the_ coolest person here."

The kid can't be older than eleven or so, and he can't be younger than ten, seeing as no one under ten was permitted at _this_ particular lock in.

I raise an eyebrow at the kid. "Uh, thanks?" I don't think he realized I was _trying_ to be offending. I don't want to be associated with any of these Jews, and he's coming over to me like I'm super awesome?

At least he has good taste in people.

"My name's Aaron and my mom and I moved to South Park a few weeks ago. I'm not allowed to go to public school here since my mom think's everyone there are a bunch of hicks." Jew Boy snorts and that little Aaron kid snaps at him. "Shut up, Daywalker."

I snicker and let the boy continue. He can't be that bad. "And so she takes me to those private schools in Denver instead, but she forced me here to make friends. I know I'm not twelve yet, but do you wanna be m'friend?" He asks in one breath.

I take one look at him."I don't befriend Jews," I say and he glares.

"But _he's_ your friend," he says and points at Jew Boy.

"He's more like an annoying piece of shit that happens to be friends with some of my friends. So we're friends by default, not by choice," I say.

"You don't _want_ to be friends with a fucked up piece of shit like him, Kid," the day walker states. "He's a self centered Fatass."

"I'm not _fat_ Kahl, you dumb Jew."

"You're certainly not skinny."

"It's _called_ muscle. You should get some."

"I _have_ some. More then you."

"Are you guys gonna fight like this all the time?" The stupid kid asks.

"We're not _fighting_,"I state. "I'm simply telling him who's right."

"This is a fucking fight, Fatass."

"Are you guys fighting about fighting?" the dumb little kid asks. "It looks like that. Wanna sit with me, Eric, when we make Macaroni pictures?"

"We're making macaroni pictures? What are we, five?"

"It's tradition. Moses likes macaroni art."

"You guys have a fucked up religion," I say receiving a glare from Jew Boy.

"Don't belittle my people, Fatass!"

"Don't call me fat!"

"You guys are fags," the little shit says to us, before walking to his table.

Psht. I'm not a fag, but I know Jew Boy probably is. He probably dreams of butt fucking Stan at night.

Pussy.

We went over our limit with the free time, so we had to go straight to work on some gay macaroni art. We were supposed to make some stupid art for Moses or whatever out of macaroni, and it was supposed to be something religious related or some crap.

All I did was glue some fucking macaroni on a piece of paper. No one really gave a shit, anyways. All I had to say was that I wasn't artistic, or something, and anyways, according to what I've been told, Moses doesn't give a shit what the macaroni art is, as long as it's made of macaroni.

This religion is fucking stupid. The fact that we have to make macaroni art and then we have to do some stupid Jew lesson, and then we're forced to eat shit food and forced to hang out until we get picked up the next day.

"Eric, don't you want to make your art a little more special?" the stupid bitch says to me as she walks over to look at my art.

"Not really," I say and she gives me a glare, pulling me aside.

"Listen Eric, I understand you don't want to be here. I understand this isn't an interest of yours, and that you're doing this for your brother, but why ruin the fun for everyone else? Why have a miserable time, when you could have a fun time? Make the best of the situation. "

"But-"

"Just do it," she snaps. Look like someone has a little too much sand in her vagina.

"Okay, okay," I abide by the rules being slightly annoyed. I'll do anything to make this day go faster and make it so I never have to be in a situation like this again.

Just because I say I'm going to be nice and follow the rules, doesn't mean I am. I say a lot of things I never will actually do. Like Scott's dumb idea. As if I'm going to have one of those gay Jew things where I "become a man."

Everyone knows you don't become a man until you grow your own public hair.

"Do you understand, Eric?" The stupid bitch asks again, and I just roll my eyes and nod my head to whatever she says. "Well, I'm glad I made myself clear, then. Now, if you join us in the circle, we'll do our lesson, have dinner, then we'll wind down with a movie or quiet game, then bed," she says, as if everything will go according to plan.

With that stupid bitch's luck, everyone follows order and sits in the circle to listen to dumb Jew stories. The bitch who's reading it seems to be more into the stories than everyone else. Only three people are even attempting to pay attention, while everyone else is trying to sleep with their eyes open or something.

She keeps reading the stories until she realizes that only one person is paying attention and puts down the book as some dumbass whines that he's hungry.

Great, Jew food.

The long as hell story ends, and we're all sitting down getting ready to eat. The shit call food is being placed on my plate and I swear to fucking God, I'm going to kill Scott for making me put up with this shit. I choke down my poorly cooked kosher shit, while that annoying kid next to me keeps talking about shit I don't care about.

I finished my dinner which for some reason we had late as fuck. I wasn't in the mood to play any fuckin' Jew games so I decided to lie and say I was so tired and go to bed as early as possible. I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for the dumb little Jew kid who started tagging around with me again.

"Kid, I'm tryin' to go to fucking sleep so I can wake up and get the hell out of here. Got it?"

"Silly Eric, you don't sleep at lock ins. It's like a giant sleep over! Now watch the movie with me!" I feel my arm getting pulled out of its socket, as I get pulled into a corner where a TV is set up playing some stupid movie.

It isn't one of those good movies, either. It's one of those gay all ages appropriate movies that you've never even heard of. Those kind with some unknown actor and went straight to DVD. Apparently this was one of one of those movies, except the main character was some Jew kid.

I wasn't even ten minutes into the movie when I could predict what would happen. The Jew kid has a problem, something happens it gets worse, and in the end everything is all better.

"This movie is fucking gay," the daywalker Jew on the right side of me says. "It's almost as bad as those lifetime movies Garrison made us watch."

"This movie is fucking gayer than Garrison. You know what? Screw you guys; I'm going to bed."

"You know what?" the Jewrat responds like I care. "Me too."

We both force our eyes shut and try our best to block out the rest of the fucking world.

I never knew trying to sleep could suck so much.

* * *

_**All crappy icebreakers in the chapter are real. I've been to 3 church camps in my life time, all forced. And Lock in's aren't as fun as they're said to be. My friends and I did exactly what Cartman did and went to bed as early as we could so we could leave sooner. At the other church trip I went to, my roommate for the trip and I spent the whole time watching South Park. Actually, so were like, half the nerdy church sunday school classmates...And the other church trip I got bitched at because I found out Jackass was on tv and she got all pissy...Oh, and I happened to buy nothing but south park merchandise at the mall we stopped at.. Anyways...**_

_**Reviews are love, and you special reviews get to A: Be a backup in Stan's gay little ant-bullying video or B: hang out the moon with Tom Cruise and the whale...aka flop there and be dead.  
**_


	13. Did You Make A Sound?

_**Thank you for the reviews! :) I didn't know you guys were still interested in this story! Did everyone see the new episode? It was AMAZING :3 So good :D**_

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**Chapter 12**

I wake up the next morning hoping the worst is over. All I want now is for Scott to pick me up and to go home.

Fuck, I never thought I'd _want_ Scott.

I sit through one more painful breakfast and I'm so glad that Scott's almost here to pick me up. Everyone is slowly leaving and finally the only people left are me and Jewboy.

Everyone's all gone and so the both of us are sitting on the steps of the stupid community center building waiting for our rides.

"Your bitch of a mom late, too?"

"Don't call my mom a bitch!" He huffs out, angrily. "But yeah," he adds, "probably picking up Ike."

"What's the little shit up too?"

"Hanging with his faggy friends, probably. And Scott?"

"Doing something stupid, probably."

"Hey Cartman?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you were here. I mean, I'd much rather prefer it to be someone else, but I-I mean-"

"Shove it Jewboy."

"Oh Kyle, bubbie! I'm so sorry!" His fat bitch of a mother gushes as she runs over to kiss him. "I had to drop Ikey and his little friend off at the art museum. I'm so sorry I'm late, bubbulah. Oh! Is this a little friend you met?"

"No, Ma, this is-"

"Oh, Eric! I didn't see you there. How are you doing, dear? What're you doing around here?"

"He's waiting for his brother," the daywalker says for me.

"Oh that's right, Scott. Such a sweet boy. How is everything going with him?"

I think about telling her the truth but lie instead. "Why, it couldn't be better, Mrs. Broflovski. Scott and I are getting along just fine."

"Oh, how wonderful!" She gushes, like I give a shit. "I'm glad to see that some brothers get along," she hinted at Kyle.

I chuckled; getting Jew Boy in trouble is _so_ much fun.

Jew Boy sends a glare my way as Scott pulls his dumb truck into the parking lot. He slams the door shut and gets out of the car, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Eric!" he greets like we're long lost friends. He gives me a hug and rumples up my hair. "Did you have fun, Little Buddy?"

_Little Buddy_? Who the fuck does he think he is calling me _little_? Either he's really doped up on his happy meds, or something is up. The look that Jew Boy's bitch of a mother gives makes it seem like we're the best fucking siblings ever.

"Hello, Shelia," Scott greets her and the stupid bitch giggles. It's quite sickening, and I'm surprised people think he's all nice.

"Why hello, Scott! How're you?"

"I've been good." He forces a fake smile, one I know he's using just to seem like the good guy. Like he's ever that fucking good. He's half crazy; too bad no one really thinks it.

"I haven't seen you around in a while," Bitch replies making stupid small talk. "You must be busy lately."

"Oh yes, ma'am," Scott says in that sickly sweet way. "It's not easy looking after a preteen, and trying to balance time with my girlfriend and work," he chuckles.

I really can't believe that they're making shit small talk about Pussy Boy's sister and me.

"Well, here," She reaches into her pocket book handing Scott some gay ass invitation. "It's not until June, but like I told my little bubbie, it's an important day in his life, and he could use all the Jewish support he gets."

I peer over at the invitation. There is _no way_ I am going to some gayass thing where Jew Boy 'becomes a man.' That same shit thing Scott's trying to get me to do.

"Bring Eric along, too! I'm sure it'd help him to see this side of his culture. Who knows? Maybe he'll want his own."

"One can hope," Scott mock laughs. "Come on Eric, we've got errands to run." He says the shit all mother like, like I'm a fucking baby. "It's been nice seeing you, Shelia." He shakes the bitch's hand and then we leave.

"What the fuck was that?" I snap, as we get into the truck.

"Shelia? Oh, an old friend of my parent's. She used to watch me in the Temple nursery when I was younger. And yeah, we've got things to do today."

"Like what?"

"Errands. We need groceries and shit. Then I've got a special surprise planned," he says, and my heart stops.

"What _kind_ of surprise?"

"I can't tell you." He grins evilly.

We pull into the parking lot of a Kosher-only supermarket as he gives me this taunting look of _this is the only place we're shopping_. In reality, I don't think the fucking Jew was ever serious about any of this shit until he gained custody of me. This is like his own personal torture for me.

This shit should be illegal.

I trudge behind him as he puts all this gross shit in the shopping cart. I don't know who the fuck would ever buy all this shit, but because he's a dick, he's making me eat this and only this.

When we finish checking out and I follow him on a few more shitty errands to places that make the kosher store look fun. After the last errand we stop by the house putting the shitty food away as he gives me a tiny smirk.

"Ready for your surprise?"

I can only hope it's something good.

"What is it, Scott?" I ask half irritated.

"Shell and I are going on a date tonight," he announces. "Only thing is her parents are out as well and her brother can't be at the house alone all night. So, while Shell and I are on our date, you and her brother can go to the arcade or something.

"Really Scott?" I try to hide the excitement in. Him doing something like that is out of fucking character and something I don't think he'd ever do.

"As long as you guys stay out of trouble. Fuck, here," he shoves a twenty dollar bill in my hand. "But I swear to god if you, or him, or the both of you, end up in some sort of trouble, I will _personally_ make your _life_ a _living hell for the next six years_." He says the last bit in his creepy ginger voice. "Think worse than eating your parents hell, or some sort of fucking warped hell your mind comes up with."

I'm not threatened by anyone, usually. But this time I feel my stomach churn. I know he's capable of damaging the last of _my_ sanity and would go as far as to make my life worse than it is already. And I'm sure Stan's bitch of a sister would easily do the same thing.

Goddammit, siblings suck.

* * *

_**Reviews? You guys get to either go zip lining or double mountain dew...Your choice!**_


	14. Than to Follow Your Dress Code

**_Thank you for the reviews :) And if you're wondering, I've been naming the chapters. It's just something I thought of doing, and I went through itunes to make some of the titles of the chapters. Also, Happy 2 year to this wonderful fic! :D It turns 2 today!_  
**

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**Chapter 13**

Scott lets me and Pussy off at the entrance of some gay ass arcade. It's not the coolest one around, and it sure as hell doesn't have many good prizes. But as much as I want to, I know not to complain to Scott about this shitty place. He'd probably then take me to a more shitty one.

Why does he have to suck so much?

Pussy Boy lets out the best, non-squeaked, acknowledgement. "Thank you Scott," he mumbles out, and I'm pretty sure his bitch probably gave him some gay lecture about being nice to Scott. She probably told him what Scott told me.

As soon as the biggest ass in the word drives off, Hippie looks at me. "Did Scott give you that lecture, too?" He says the word too all deep and it sounds so weird to hear a man sounding voice from him.

"Don't fuck up? Yeah, or else."

"God I hate my sister," he groans. "She's the biggest bitch on the fucking planet."

"Bigger than Kahl's mom?"

Pussy doesn't even tell me not to call Daywalker's mom a bitch. See Kahl, even your fag hates your mom.

"Sometimes. Is-is Scott as weird about Shelley as she is about him? Because the other night she spent a whole fucking hour describing his hair and how it's _softer than a fluffy cloud_. "

What. The actual. Fuck.

My brother's girlfriend is fucking insane. First off, that bitch likes a fucking _ginger_. Secondly, he's a _psychopath_. That's enough to keep him from getting laid, ever.

Thirdly…I just called Scott my _brother_.

Ew. Correction, _half-_brother.

God, I'm losing it.

"Your sister has horrible taste," I say, and Hippie boy doesn't have anything to say to that.

"They seem nicer when they're around each other. When Shelley's with him—she's like a whole different person. Like not as mean and actually _offered_ to drive me places and shit. Does Scott do that?"

Pussy Boy looks like he's dying to know, so I decide to be nice and let him know.

"He's a dick, but with her….he's not as much a dick."

"She wants to marry him," he announces and I nearly choke.

"You're breaking my balls, Stan."

"No-like-," his voice squeaks. "She means it. She wants to marry him and thinks he's the sweetest, nicest, _cutest_ boy on the planet. "

"But he's a ginger," I say deadpanned. "He carries the ginger gene inside him. They'll make ginger babies and be horrible parents."

"She one of those fucked up people that think ginger kids are cute." Even Pussy boy admits that ginger is gross.

I'm getting kind of annoyed by this dumb talk.

"Are we going to just stand here and talk about our douchey siblings, or are we gonna kick some kid's ass in this fucking place?"

"Right," he nods as we make our way to get some tokens.

Out of all the guys who hang out with me, if I had to pick one I hate the least it would probably be Stan. When not being a Pussy or acting like a gay Hippie, he's actually an okay person. He's not poor like Kenny, and he's not chicken shit like Kahl, or some giant vagina like Butters. He's always stuck around me more than the other douche bags.

And yippee; our siblings are fucking.

Stan and I kick some ass at the arcade and get a shit ton of tickets. Between the both of us we have more than enough for some good prize. Too bad all the good prizes are kinda shitty, so we both decide to get all our ticket's worth in candy.

We had about two thousand tickets, so that's about 200 pieces of the cheapest candy. Only Pussy boy whines because he can't have this one chewy type because of his stupid braces, so we get a bigger variety. We split the piles of candy in half, him getting most of the shitty ones that won't get stuck in his metal mouth, me getting the best ones, naturally.

"Are you going to Kyle's thing in June?" He asks, and I don't bother to answer. I don't want to go, but I have a feeling Scott might make me. He'll do anything to make me suffer.

Just then with my lately-shitty luck, Po' boy comes along.

"Didn't know you were a chubby chaser, Stan," he teases, laughing at his own joke.

"Hey Kenny," Pussy greets.

"What are you and Fatass doin' on a date?"

"It's not a date," Pussy retorts. "My sister and his brother are out on a date…Scott dropped us off here and told us to not fuck up, or else.

"Psht, like I'd ever date this fag," I reply with a roll of the eyes.

"I dunno man, you guys seem pretty close lately." He loosens his stupid hood, letting the hood fall around his shoulders. According to all the bitches at school, he's got _the prettiest hair_ and _the shiniest eyes. _But in reality, his hair's a fucking mess because he can't afford to ever get it cut. He calls it his _rolled out of bed_ look, otherwise known as the _I'm too poor to afford proper hair care_ look.

He flashes us a smile, showing us his teeth which oddly look nice for someone who can't even afford to go to the dentist. He sits down on the sidewalk next to us, starting to pick at pieces of Stan's candy. He knows better to not mess with anything good of mine. Whore may of battled Satan, but certainly I can be worse when I want.

"I wouldn't hang out with this pussy if Scott wasn't always together with his bitch."

"So, they fuck a lot?" Kenny grins, waggling his eyesbrows.

"Dude, sick!" Pussy squeals, only because his voiced cracked.

"Gross, Stan. You just puked right next to my candy, you butthole."

"Tch, whatever. You guys are such fags." Kenny grabs one of my pieces of candy. That buttfucker.

"That was mine, Kenneh!"

"Race me for it, Fatass." I huff, and don't reply. "Because you know you'd lose?" He teases.

"Fuck you," I spat.

"Offer or threat?" Kenny replies with a devious grin.

"Shut up," I say deadpanned.

"And _I'm_ the fag?" Stan laughs at the both of us.

"Whatever. Hey, you guys wanna go to the gas station or something? I'm fucking starving."

Kenny's still poor, but somehow he manages to find a few bucks around and he buys lots of his meals at the gas station. The crappy gas station foods seem to fit his budget, and because he loves the small treats he goes there every once in a while. Once in a while he brings his skanky sister around and she tags along. Then it becomes really lame because we have to act all nice an' shit around her. I swear Po' boy's practically gay for his own sister, always protecting her and shit.

"Sure," Stan says and looks at me. He knows that I spent all my money at the shitty arcade and I'm pretty sure if it wasn't the fact that his sister and my brother—dammit, _half_-brother- were fucking, he wouldn't give a shit. "Relax dude, I have enough."

"I don't need your fucking charity," I say all proud.

Stan blinks in response.

The three of us head over to the gas station, and Kenny acts as if he's entered a gourmet restaurant. Fingering the dollar bills in his pocket, he looks around at the crappy hot dogs and nachos and the candy. I'm sure this _is_ heaven for him, and this is probably a lot better than the day old discount waffles he eats.

Stan stares at Po' Boy with disgust as he gets a large hot dog and drink. We're both expecting a gay ass lecture but he just keeps his mouth shut and gets a bean burrito. Pussy boy pulls me into the corner of the shitty gas station, and it makes us look gayer than gay.

"Dude, if you want something…don't worry about it," he whispers.

"Stan. I'm not poor; I can get my own food. I'm just not hungry right now."

"You're _always_ hungry. "

"Fuck you!"

"Shut up, Cartman. "

"What the fuck are you doing being all nice an' shit? Jesus Christ, Stan. Is it because our siblings are fucking?"

"No, well—maybe."

"Screw you guys, I'm going home," I say all pissed off. Until I remembered I _couldn't_ go home because Scott is a fucking asshole and the biggest douche in the universe as well.

They both laugh at me.

Assholes.

"Fine," I give in slightly. It's free food, and none of that shit Scott eats. Too get back at pussy though, I get a hot dog loaded with chili and everything I know would make him disgusted. Scrunching his face up, Pussy just wrinkles his nose as he hands me my food.

I rub it in his face, the fact that I'm eating _real_ food and he's not. The hot dog tastes like shit but I really don't give a shit.

"Oh shit," Stan mutters and I look over at him. He points down at the phone telling me he has a missed call from Shelley. I look down at my own shitty phone and find out that Scott the douche has called me three times.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck fuck.

The first message he's annoyed. The second, he's pissed. And the third he's pissed, annoyed, and worried.

Jesus Christ, he's so bipolar.

"We've got to go, Ken," Pussy says, grabbing my arm. He starts jogging down the street making me run with him.

Asshole.

By the time we make it to the car where his sister and Scott are, I'm so tired and he's barely broke a sweat.

His sister is trying not to laugh at me, and Scott's tapping his foot like he's a pissed off mom. "Jesus Eric, where the fuck were you?" he hisses, not happy. His happy pills must've worn off.

Fuck my life.

* * *

_**Reviews? Every reviewer gets Mountain Dew or Ginger robots :)**_


	15. Rage and Love

**_So this chapter is pretty short. But, will have a slightly long A/N. _**

**_First off, for curiosity: Does anyone out there cosplay South Park? If you do, I want more South Park cosplay friends. And if you do, and is interested in cosplaying South Park, tell me through PM on here, or Review. I'm going to a con most likely in June where I live and will probably be cosplaying Mysterion/Kenny. If anyone out there reading this does cosplay South Park and like me, doesn't have anyone to cosplay with, then now's our chance to join together :) So if you do cosplay South park, or is interested in it, then drop me a PM or say so in review. I don't care. And, if you do live close by then maybe we can meet up at the Con :]_  
**

**_Secondly, this relates to the fic and not my social life: Currently, there is no real romance. I mean besides Scott and Shelley. BUT I want to add a one sided romance thing with Cartman. And really, it's very minimum, and wouldn't get in the way of the fic. And it wouldn't exactly be a romance, per say. It'd be more like some one sided friendship thing, as I don't think I'd make Cartman date anyone. But then he's near that age when I started dating...But it's pretty much between Kyman or Stanman. Originally, there was gonna be very one-sided Stanman due to circumstances. But, Kyman's been creeping on me lately, so I'm stuck between the two. Let me know what you guys think. And Also, don't think it'll ever be a full out romance. It'd be in a very Cartman-y way. So don't get too turned off by the chance of "romance." Let me know what you think in a review.  
_**

**_LAST: Who saw the new episode last night? My heart just DIED. I scared my roommate's friend who was over, and he says he's never watching South Park with me in the room again. Well, he doesn't even like South Park so...  
_**

**_ONWARD TO THE CHAPTER!  
_**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Scott's rage was worse than usual.

He spent the hours after I got back lecturing me and yelling all while trying to sound like a parent.

What the fuck is up with that?

Scott then told me that it was _embarrassing_ to see me all out of breath and panting. And hell was coming at the words he said next.

"Tubby, you're going on a diet. And I'm not fucking around, Eric. You're going on a diet and you're starting now. And you're staying on that fucking diet until you shed off most of that weight. Fuck it; you're going to the gym with me."

I look at his scrawny ginger ass. "_You_ go to a _gym_?"

"Evil villains have to stay in shape too, you know." He smirks. "It's hard work making your brother's life miserable."

"_Half_ brother," I correct before adding, "You douche."

He's not kidding when he forces me into some t-shirt and shorts and we go to the gym. There's no one there on this Saturday afternoon and he forces me down on the ground making me stretch.

"And one, and two," he orders like the douche bag he is. "Come on Eric; no pain, no gain."

He forces me to do all this fucking shit there at the gym. Who the fuck can do sit ups? And pushups? When the fuck will I even need half this shit. I struggle with them and Scott forces me to the hell that is the treadmill.

"Run," he orders.

"Are you trying to kill me, you fucking lunatic?" I shout at him while glaring at that stupid machine.

"Walk then," he orders. "Or else."

"Or else, what?"

"Do I have to remind you what I can do to you, _Eric_?" He taunts. "I can do whatever I want. I _own_ you."

"I-I can call social services, Scott. I can get you put in jail for child abuse!"

"And who will they believe? _You?_ Eric, Eric, Eric, You see, _no one_ will see _this_ as child abuse. Making you eat healthy? Exercise? Ha, everything I ask of you can't even count as child abuse. In fact, they'll probably praise me. And if not," he says as he forces a sad look on his face, pretending to cry. "_Please, he's the only little brother I got. B-both our parents a-are dead and o-our dad, th-this was his last wish before he died. He just wanted his two sons to be raised together. Please don't take my baby brother away_," he sniffs. "_He's the only one I have left_." He stops the fake tears, smirking. "Face it baby bro, everything I've asked is reasonable. Except for the one mental breakdown, I'm the perfect guardian, and I qualify for everything the state of Colorado asks for in a guardian. And, we're biologically bound. Not to mention, Daddy was a sports star. And no one dares take away the child of a sports star," he taunts. "Especially the son of the right tackle, the same right tackle that helped Colorado's beloved Broncos have one of their greatest years."

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

That asshole was an evil manipulating bastard.

If it wasn't _me_ he was manipulating, he'd be considered an evil genius. Following all the guidelines where nothing could go wrong while still being evil. But nothing could happen because he wasn't breaking any laws, therefore he could never get in trouble.

That son of a bitch.

"Now Eric," he says gentler. "Walk on the treadmill, and we'll make this as easy as possible. The sooner you lose weight, the better it'll be." He gives me a convincing smile that creeps me out.

As much as I don't want to give in, I do, slightly.

It's not because _he_ wants me too, but because _I_ want to. He thinks he's forcing me, but really, I'm just doing it because I want to. Let the asshole think what he wants, but I'm not doing anything for him, only for me.

Besides, the sooner this shit's over with, the sooner I can eat whatever the hell I want.

* * *

_**Reviews? You guys get to get shot by Cupid!Cartman and fall in love with your one true ("same people should fall in love" type of person) love or you get a fart. And don't forgeet about the question at the top! I'd like your input (and to know if you are interested in cosplay!)**_


	16. To Keep Me From Thinking Of You

**_Thank you for the reviews! :3 I'm so excited to almost hit 100, and seriously you guys, that would make me soooo happy if I could get to that point. I've never gotten that many before._**

**_New reviews make me a happy Comsie :3  
_**

**_However, as exam season approaches updates might be delayed. I've got papers to write and exams to study for. One of which is the horrible class of biology. So the case is I've got a hard lecture professor but an easy lab professor. My lecture professor is wicked hard and likes to weight things differently, while my lab professor pretty much is the complete opposite. So the awkward state will probably be I pass lab but fail lecture...Don't know how that's gonna work  
_**

**_Um...so in good news making my Mysterion cosplay :3 Also, sorry for the werid point of view during the video/flashback...I don' know what my brain was thinking xDD;  
_**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Scott the asshole has stuck to his word of forcing me on that stupid diet. He actually _makes_ me work out daily, and forces me to eat healthy. What the fuck is up with that?

I've been on that fucking diet thing for like, a few weeks now. And god, it sucks balls. I'm eating all this fucking healthy Jew food and it fucking sucks. Nothing good is coming out of this, and this week is spring break, and god, being stuck with him for a week is going to be fucking hell.

The only reason he's fucking nicer this week is because it's his Jew holiday and I guess even assholes have holiday spirit. And the stupid asshole made us go to _Miss Shelia's_ house as he calls it, aka Jew Boys house. He said he wanted to celebrate Passover—what a gayass name for a holiday- but not alone. Well of course being the fucking charity case at his temple or whatever, _Kyle's_ mom invites us over to celebrate, because _it's an important time for the Hebrew people, Eric_.

So I get stuck at Jew Boy's house for some stupid gayass dinner thing, and everything there is shit. The food is shit, and the bread is all flat and shit, but I'm forced to stay here because leaving _isn't polite_. The fuck is up with that?

When dinner is over, Jew Boy is sent upstairs to work on some gay shit and sitting here is like torture. The small talk is terrible and I could really care less. I sit here with a fake smile on my face pretending like I care about half the things they are talking about before Scott announces that we must leave.

At home, Scott's being unusually nice to me. The dickhead says that maybe over spring break we could do something fun. Mom always let me do whatever I wanted over spring break. Every year she let me go to some epic fun place and would buy me whatever I wanted.

He mentions taking me to a movie over spring break and I think he's going to say I can see whatever, but then limits me to just the lameass ones that are for kids who are like, five or something. To test him, I mention how I want to see this really cool, kickass rated R movie that has a crap ton of violence and when I tell Scott he shrugs and says, "Sure. We'll go one day next week when I get off work."

I don't expect him to keep his word though, he's a dick, and that's what dicks do.

When the week of spring break starts, it usually starts off kicking ass. This time, it sucks. Scott works some shitty job hours so he's gone most of the day. And as usual, after three hours of being locked in this fucking house, I feel like I might go crazy. Just not ginger psychopath crazy.

And the even shittier thing is almost everyone I hang out with is gone this year. Stan and his parents went somewhere gay, Kyle's family is visiting relatives, and Butter's out visiting some stupid aunt or whatever. The only one around is Kenny, and he's poor, so that sucks.

Bored out my fucking mind, I start to explore the house for something to do.

There is very little in this house and it sucks. We have just the bare minimum, since Scott's a dick and tries to make sure we only have what we need. Everything else he tries to sell for spare change. God, its like we're one step above Kenny's family.

There are two rooms in the house I'm not allowed in: his room and his parents. He's a bit obsessed with keeping his parents room the way it was, and he doesn't like anyone to go in and touch anything in there. Not even his girlfriend is allowed in there, and she's allowed _everywhere_.

Then there's his stupid room. His room is his private place as he calls it, and I don't give a shit about what he does in there anyway. I can't go into his room, but he can go into mine? Totally fucking lame.

He's not home, so I decide to go into his parent's room. I know I'm not supposed to go in there, but I don't really give a fuck, and I do anyway. Everything in the room is all dusty and it's creepy as fuck in there. His parents have everything left as they last touched it and it's eerie as shit.

Most of the pictures on the wall are of Scott the dick, and stupid family shit I could care less about. I don't even really care as I began to rummage through all the stuff and stop when I come across some of my dad's things. It's strange to think that is _his_ stuff, and he was the last one to touch it. I started opening various drawers that held dad's stuff and stopped at the thing I saw at the bottom of the drawer.

It was a picture: an old, faded, torn, picture. I looked closer at the picture, hoping to have some sort of document that Scott was a baby human and not some creepy ginger from another planet, but it wasn't him. It wasn't Scott in the picture. It was Dad, but Dad was with some other baby. Unless I had another fucking half-brother or some shit, but I don't think that's possible. The baby looked a lot like…

…_Me? _I looked at the picture of the baby, noticing that we shared all the same awesome features. Plus, I could tell this baby was awesome, and so was I. So, naturally, it had to be me.

Jesus Mom, so, I _met_ Dad and you never told me? Or did you pass it off as a "meet and greet the Denver Broncos" thing? Because Dad is clearly holding me and _smiling_ and that baby is clearly me. There's one more picture under it, and I don't know how the _fuck_ Dad has it.

I'm good looking and everything and I know that. I always take a good picture but Mom kept this one picture where I looked like absolute shit. I told that bitch to get rid of it as soon as I was old enough and she did, but I guess _he_ got it before she could.

According to Mom, when I was _really_ little I didn't like having my hair touched or anything. So up until preschool I had long hair that made me look like a goddamn hippie. And at the time I was all messy and crap as well, and in some ugly shirt Mom really liked that I hated.

God, I hope Scott never finds that picture.

I pull the door shut to the room and go to Scott's room, just because he wasn't around and I could. He has a whole bunch of Radiohead posters on his wall, which is funny, seeing as that band hates him thinking he's a cry baby. And I have to say, for a guy who claims to be all evil and shit, he has the _lamest_ bedroom. It's all plain and shit, and it's kinda creepy.

The only thing I found interesting in his room was some stupid journal and I smirked to myself as I picked it up to read it. Any information I could get on Scott would be sweet, and I'd find anything I could to make him as miserable as he did to me.

It was some boring looking notebook on the outside and inside it had information about Scott when he was in the mental institution.

_Patient # 902145_

_Name: Scott Isaac Tenorman_

_Height: 6"1_

_Eye Color: brown_

_Hair: Curly/ Red_

_Cause Of Entry: Unstable sanity, death of parents, claims to have eaten them….? Trouble controlling emotions and actions, PTSD, possibly bipolar, extreme weight loss_

I snorted as I read through his files. Half of it seemed to be filled out by some bitch, the other half being written by him.

_Scott's having trouble communicating. The only words he seems to be speaking are: Chili, Parents, Kill, and Eric Cartman. It's common for patients to be in a state of shock after traumatic experiences, but not like him. _

I pause when I hear the sound of a car pull up. I peek through the window for a brief moment when I see the shitty truck that belongs to the ginger that is my brother. He's happily whistling as he grabs the mail from the mailbox, and right now, he seems to be in a good mood.

Quickly, I shove the notebook back where it was placed, and scamper out of his room. I make sure it's completely shut, or else he'll have a shit fit. Scott's just weird like that. I know that if he catches me upstairs in any room that I'm not supposed to be in, I'm dead. I don't have time to make it downstairs to my usual spot on the couch, so I run into my room, grabbing the nearest book, which just so happens to be some gayass book we're reading for English class.

"Eric?" The voice calls out and he sounds like he's in a good mood. Usually I can tell from the moment he steps in the door if he's in a good mood or not. If he asks for me in a calm voice, then usually he's not in a bad mood, if the door thrashes open and he's shouting in that stupid ginger voice, then he's severely pissed.

"What do you want, Scott?" I snap, pretending to be annoyed as I put my book down.

"What're you doing?" He asks, eyeing me warily.

"What does it look like; I'm reading a book for school!"

"For school? And you're doing _homework_ on _spring break_?"

"Yes, asshole."

"Okay…" He says, and he believes it. The asshole believes it and I can't be prouder. I'm getting away with it when I hear a creek in the door and that asshole speaks again.

"Eric? Can you come here for a minute, _brother_?"

Nervously I gulp. "U-uh, s-sure Scott. What do you want?

"Baby brother," he says, and he grabs my arm pulling me closer to him. "What is Dad's door doing open?"

"N-nothing Scott, I haven't been in there."

"You sure? Because Dad's stuff wasn't like that when I left."

The fuck? That asshole _checked_?

"Oh, well, I haven't touched anything. I'm not allowed in there, Scott, remember?"

"Oh," his voice seemed to fall. He seemed almost disappointed that I was following the rules. I mean, if I was, that is.

"Well, um, d'you wanna see Dad's stuff, Eric? I mean, he's your dad, too, after all."

I put on a fake smile. "Really? But I've got these chapters to read…" I say in mock disappointment.

"You've got all week to do your homework. C'mon," he says as he tugs my arm into the room I visited mere hours ago. "This is Dad's room. Him and Mom's-my mom's, your stepmom's- room. Dad, uhm, sometimes," the stupid ginger was getting teary. "Sometimes he'd just come here after a game and uhm, lie down and stuff. Or he'd come home from work—he had a part time job, too, just for fun. When I was little he uhm, we'd-I'd lay in bed with him and my mom when it stormed. He was a nice guy, Eric. Dad, I mean. He always made you feel safe. And sometimes, before bed, he'd tell me story. He'd always tell about his athletic record, but he never bragged. He was cool, Eric. And uhm," Scott looked down at his feet. "He told me once-before we met- that it was possible I had a little brother or sister out there somewhere. Dad always wanted two kids but mom never wanted more than me. He didn't say anything else, just that I was a big brother to someone out there. Uhm, anyways," Scott sniffs, stopping. "He-he says he met you once, when you were a baby."

I look into the drawer and pull out the picture. "This one? "

"Y-yeah," Scott replies. He looks a little suspicious but stops. He probably thinks I found it in some box of Mom's stuff, or just noticed. But then, whenever he's around stuff of Dad's he doesn't think straight. So taking advantage of him at this time is really easy.

"The team was always really cool about meeting little kids and stuff. Dad especially; he loved kids." Scott looked further into the drawer, staring at the picture. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed the next picture.

Fuck.

"What's this, Eric? Do you have a sister or something?"

"Fuck off, Scott," I muttered, jumping up to snatch the picture.

He grinned, holding it higher. God, I hope I get Dad's tall genes. He can't use height advantage over me forever. "Wittle Ewic looks so perty with his wong hair," he teased in stupid baby talk.

"I was _three_," I stressed, jumping up trying to grab it. While I might've lost some weight, I haven't lost much yet. "Give it to me, you asshole!"

He held it up higher, causing me to jump again. He kept backing up further and further until he hit a pile of boxes. For some stupid reason the asshole put my mom's boxes in here as well. I think he thinks it's better for the both of us to shove it all in the same room so we don't have to deal with it.

The boxes tip over and out spills a bunch of video tapes, and Scott being the dick decides to look through them. He finds one that doesn't sound like one of my mom's work tapes and puts it in the VCR that once belonged to his parents. I just hope it isn't "work."

The static on the screen starts to fade into a picture, and thankfully it's not anything dealing with mom's work. It's a baby thing of me, but it's better than work.

"_Eric, Eric, Poopsiekins, look at Mommy! Tell Mommy where you're going! What did Grandma and Grandpa give you for your birthday?"_

_The camera focused on a pudgy toddler, clutching a stuffed frog. "Clyde Frog an' me are goin' to meet the Bwnco," The little boy said with a smile on his face. "I goin' to see the Bwncoes."_

"_That's right, honey. Which one are you excited to see?"_

"_John Elway!" The little boy cheered._

"_Oh no, Hun, he's not going to be there."_

"_But meeehuum, he my favorwite!"_

"_But the whole team isn't going to be there, Hun. Just some of them. But isn't it nice of them to do something like this?"_

_The camera then cut to a scene where I was in near some person. Much to my dismay, only like, a few members were even there. _I think Mom said it was some charity breakfast for kids, and only a few people could go. Most of the kids that went were rich families who could afford tickets. I think Mom just got them because of Dad or something.

_Mom sat me on the ground next to a guy with red hair. Looking up at him I frowned. "You're not John Elway."_

_He chuckled. "No Son, I'm not. Sorry to disappoint you."_

"_Eric honey, this is Jami-Jack. Jack Tenorman."_

_I put on my big boy smile for the camera as Dad smiled too. "And who's this guy? Kermit?"_

"_No," I replied angrily. "Clyde Frog. This is Clyde Frog. He's not in love with some dumb pig."_

"_Oh, right, haha. Nice to meet you, Clyde Frog." He reached out to shake Clyde Frogs hand._

_Mom set the camera down on something, showing just a table with other kids around it. "Mommy's got to make a tinkle, Hun. Can you be a big boy and sit next to that boy over there?" She pointed over at a red head kid._

I hear Scott snort. "So you were that annoying kid that sat next to me when Dad dragged me to that dumb event."

"Shut up, Scott," I hissed, shushing him.

"_What are you doing with that dumb frog? Go away, kid."_

"_Clyde Frog's not dumb! He can kick you in the fireman!"_

"_Shut up, kid," the elementary school aged redhead sighed. "I don't know why my dad brings me here with all these dumb little kids like you."_

"_Then you can just leave! "_

"_Nope. My dad said I have to stay here until he's done with this dumb lunch. That's what happens when your daddy is _on_ the Denver Broncos," he bragged._

_My eyes went wide. "He's on the team? You're just making it up."_

_He rolled his eyes. "Whatever kid, I don't need to sit here wasting time talking to dumb babies like you."_

"_I-I'm not a baby! An' I'm going to tell my Mommy on you!"_

"_Whatever," he said again sighing with relief before glaring at the young boy. "Ow! Why did you pinch me?"_

"_Because you're being a meanie butt."_

_He flicked the younger boy who started to wail, pulling at the red head's hair as his only form of payback._

_At the sounds of her son's cries, Liane rushed over to see her baby boy. "Eric Poopsiekins, what's wrong?"_

"_Th-that mean boy hit m-meheee," he whined._

"_I'm sure it was just an accident, Sweetums. There sure are a lot of kids here, aren't there?"_

"_He-he was m-mean to me an' an' Clyde Frooooogg!"_

"_I think somebody's ready for a nappy-poo. Come on Sweetums, Mommy will take you home."_

"_Are you leaving so soon, Lee-Ma'am?"_

"_Oh, I'm afraid my little Eric's gotten tired. So much excitement."_

"_Oh yes, I understand. My Scottie was the same way at that age."_

"_Well—Goodbye, then."_

"_Liane?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_If you or Eric need something, I'm only a phone call away."_

"_Jami-I mean, Mr. Tenorman, that's quite alright. I've got it under control. You remember what we've discussed."_

"_Yes butt-"_

"_Thank you for the picture, Mr. Tenorman. Eric and I have to be going now."_

_The camera shut off._

"What. The. Fuck," I said staring at the blank screen. "So I met him, and I didn't know?"

Scott just sat there, staring at the screen as well. I think he was starting to become all pussy about seeing his daddy on the screen.

"Are you going to cry now, _Scottie_?" I smirked.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"He mumbled something incoherent before gripping his head and shaking. I think he was going through one of his mental breakdowns. He spent a few minutes rocking back and forth like he was crazy—well, he is. His break down was quick this time, and in about ten minutes time he was back to normal, well, back to whatever the fuck he was.

"Sorry," he apologizes like I care.

"Whatever," I say and I really honestly don't care.

"Anyways, so um, how about we see that movie you want to see on Friday? Yeah?"

"'Kay," I reply noninterested.

"So, I'll go make dinner," he says and I really honestly don't care.

I look over at the pile of Mom's crap and sigh.

Goddammit.

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_**Reviews? Almost to 100 :] You guys get...um...whatever South Park thing you want :3  
**_


	17. I hope you Die

******_I know I said a little chance of updating, but I cannot resist. For the record, I'm taking a -small- break from studying. And after the 15th, I am FREE for the summer. Well, except for internships and stuff.  
_**

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**Chapter 16**

The week has gone slow as hell and after wasting time doing whatever, I was glad when Friday finally came. While Scott is a dick, he actually kept through with his promise, and lo and behold, when he got off work from his early shift of Friday, he was still on with the idea about going to the movies.

Scott's been doing this thing lately where when he's trying to sound all happy to see me he calls me 'Buddy.' And usually when he starts calling me that, he's in a super sweet mood and it's probably when he's doped up the most on his dumb pills.

"Hey Buddy," Scott greets as he steps into the house after getting off work early. "How 'bout we go see that movie today?"

I look suspiciously at him, and slowly nod my head. "Okay…" I say hesitantly.

He gives me a grin and nods his head, going to the bathroom to wash up before we go. "Ready Eric?" he asks with that usual smirk of his. It's a smirk I've come to know, and the shitty thing is it can't be decoded. He's a dick with facial expressions. They all match the same and it's hard to tell what he means by his facial expressions. He's damn near impossible to read sometimes.

But this time he's not being super dicky, so the ride to the old familiar movie theater is calm and not dramatic. If it were any other type of story, the trip to the movies would be predictable, but of course, with Scott, it's impossible to predict.

He keeps his word, and even when he's advised that I'm too young to see the movie, he lets me see it anyway. I guess in a way, there is an advantage to having a sibling as a guardian. They let you see things that normally parents wouldn't allow.

I _so_ can't wait to rub it in the guy's faces that I got to see this super awesome movie that their mom's don't want them to see. Plus, there's a preview for the release of some super new, super awesome, Terrance and Phillip movie coming out this summer, and _I_ got to see it before them.

The only downside of being poor is that Scott's a dick about popcorn at the movies. With Mom, I got to get whatever I wanted and it tasted kick ass and would be awesome. Scott, that dick, has the dumbest taste in popcorn. Seriously.

The asshole went to get popcorn and said to put no butter or no salt on it. What the fuck? Everyone knows extra salt and extra butter is the only way to eat that stuff. Aside from his Styrofoam tasting popcorn, the dick wouldn't allow me candy.

Jesus.

But in a way, I guess it was okay that I got to go see the movie. Of course, how could I not think that he being nice would lead to some stupid plan of his? As soon as the movie was over he took me to Shakey's for pizza and then he put on some stupid serious face.

I thought maybe it had to do with him trying to tie the knot to that bitch, but it had nothing to do with her.

"Eric," The stupid ginger said softly. "I've got a proposition for you."

Putting down my pizza I quirked my head to the side. "Yes, Scott?"

"It's just an idea—"he defended himself. "But I've being filling out a _lot_ of forms dealing with your custody. And it's a complicated matter. But it's hard, because even though we have the same dad, no one recognizes us as siblings."

"_Half_," I correct him.

The dick ignores me and nods his head. "Right. But what I'm saying is that it's rather difficult to _do_ all this paperwork and make everything all neat and legal when we're not legally bounded."

"What are you proposing; we get married? Listen Scott, I don't marry gingers. And I _sure_ as hell don't marry psychotic ones like you. And thirdly, I may be super handsome and awesome, but I don't _do_ incest. That's like what rednecks like Kenneh's family does."

He ignored me again. "What I'm saying is, is that I may have guardianship over you, but legally it's still very complicated. Especially since Dad wasn't involved in your life like most fathers. And the social worker mentioned that there was a way we could fix this. All you have to do is change your last name to mine, and everything will fit together better."

"I'm not going to be like you," I say instantly. "No way in hell am I becoming a _Tenorman_." I grit the last work between my teeth.

"And it'd make Dad happy," he says as well, trying to guilt me into it. I think secretly he just wants a reason for me to have to stay legally tied to him, so he could torture me forever.

"No, Scott," I reply. "I'm not changing my name. There is no way on fucking hell I am going to associate myself with you."

"I knew you weren't going down without a fight, little bro." He smirked, the words spilling out his mouth venomously.

"And I knew you were going to be a dick and have something up your ginger-sleeve, _big bro_," I challenged back. "So, what're you black mailing me with?"

"Nothing."

"What, is it the Dad thing? That Dad will be happy? Well Scott, Dad might care, but did _he_ care to see me?"

"You little asshole! Dad loved you plenty, but that skank wouldn't let him see you!"

"Oh-ho, don't you _fucking_ dare call my mom a skank, you fucking psychopath!"

"Don't call me a fucking psychopath you twat! You _know_ it's your fault! And I was being nice—I really don't need _your_ permission to change your name. You're a minor; I could do it without your consent. I was just being nice."

"Hey Scott," I say slyly. "Can I get another drink? Because I like to quench my thirst _before you fuck me!_"

I saw people look over at us, and I stepped off my chair. "Because really Scott, if _my brother_ is _going to fuck me_ than I'd really prefer to be treated a little better, than. After all, you should really treat your date nice, _before you fuck me!"_

The bill came quicker and Scott's face was fuming red. He looked really pissed off. "You want to be fucked, baby brother? Oh, I'm going to _fuck_ you so hard you won't know what happens next," he hissed in my ear.

He pulled me out the restaurant by my ear, God damn. He kept grabbing my ear, pulling me to his shitty truck.

"Pull off your pants," he ordered.

He really wasn't going to fuck me, was he?

"NOW!" He shouted, and his voice was in that loud boom he uses when he's about to get some bipolar attack.

I fumbled with my jeans as I pulled them down, showing Scott my bare ass.

"Now Eric," he says in a creepy sweet way. "I can't literally fuck you, no, that would be illegal, baby bro. But there is no law against spanking, is there? No—Why no, I don't see _any_ one getting mad at spanking a spoiled _brat_ like yourself. You know, the things _fathers_ should have done. Now, how many times did you say fuck? Oh yeah, "he hissed, counting mentally.

With a smirk he pulled a leather belt he had left in the back of his truck.

"You're not going to do this here, a-are you? I mean, Scott, someone could see."

"No, I think _here_ is a perfectly fine place. After all, you don't have a problem with embarrassing me, so why should I worry about you? Now bend over, my _sweet_, _dear, baby brother_."

And that asshole actually did it.

Right there in the parking lot.

A smack for each time I told him to fuck me.

And then I was grounded for the next month.

And that asshole had no feelings whatsoever.

What a dick.

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_**Reviewers get to fuck Cartman, or get an ipad [with no access to anything.] If you get me to 100 I would be SOOO happy.**_


	18. With nothing else to do

_**Thank you for the reviews! I hit 100! I love you all! And yes, the school nurse in this chapter is like the one at my school who seriously used to do that. if you're sick, she assumes you're preggers. This chapter was inspired by a certain reviewer wishing for some more brotherly bond...And I have nothing but an internship this summer, so I've got plenty of writing time!**_

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**Chapter 17**

Being grounded sucked. I couldn't do anything, nor could I leave the house except for school. I was stuck and it was boring as shit. There was no tv, no computer, and he already broke my xbox, so I had literally nothing. It was to the point _bed_ was starting to sound like fun.

It's like prison.

Only worse, since its run by a ginger.

School was shit as well. It was that period between spring break and the end of school that just well, sucked. Teachers were starting to pile on end of the year assignments and those stupid standard tests were coming up, causing everyone to become stressful. It was probably one of the worst waiting periods of school.

And today, god damn, today was kinda shitty. It was one of those days where you know somethings fucked up with you. Like no matter how hard you try you cannot physically stay awake. Today was one of those days for me, and it was only getting worse.

When I left the house this morning my throat was slightly burning and my face had a slight rash on it. Scott didn't think there was anything wrong with it, and that it was just some stupid irritation. All the cold weather can do that to you.

Goddammit, I know I'm not a pussy, but right now I actually feel physically sick. Not like the physically sick that gingers make me feel, but really, actually, I'm an ice cube in hell sick. Even the teachers who usually hate me must've seen something wrong, because the bitch sent to me to goddammed nurse.

Now let me set this straight: I don't hate school nurses. The ones in elementary school were kickass because they usually let you go home with a bad stomach ache or something easy. Or they'd let you sleep on a cot before getting picked up. But this one, _here_, was kind of an idiot. She wouldn't let you go home unless you had a fever, so even if you puked you'd still be stuck in school. Well, that sucks for Stan.

This one would always ask the stupidest questions before she'd let you go home.

"Hello," She fumbled with her words, looking for my name. "Eric! There it is. So, why were you sent here?"

"Isn't that supposed to be your job? I look sick, and the stupid teacher sent me here."

"Okay, well, first, are you pregnant?"

And this is why I hate her. That's her first question to everything. It doesn't matter what happened, but she always asks if you are pregnant before anything else. It doesn't matter what you go in there for, but in the end you always get asked if you're about to pop out some kid.

"I'm _twelve_ for Christ's sake, not to mention I _have a dick_."

"Mmhmm, so, are you pregnant?"

"No. I swear to your fuckin' god, I'm not going to pop out a kid."

"Okay then, take this and stick it under your tongue." She forces a thermometer in my mouth, and I almost choke on it. After a minute it beeps and she stares at it. "Good lord, Kid, you've got a fever of over 100. What the hell are you still doing here?" She goes through some file of mine by the cabinet, before pulling it out. "Who should I call? Your mom? Your dad?"

I cough before answering her. "Dead, dead, and I live with some asshole called Scott Tenorman."

"Oh, right," she says, dialing his number. "You're that kid who's an orphan adopted by his brother in attempts to bond. Like in a soap opera, or some movie." She taps her foot eagerly. "Mr. Tenorman? Hi, this is the nurse from Eric Cartman's school. Uh-huh. No, he's not faking it. Temperature is 102.1. No sir, this can't be faked. And his throat looks a bit sore as well. My best bet is to take him to the doctors, right away. Well, you're his only contact, sir. Well, he could be _dying_ so sooner than better. No, it can't wait. Okay, see you soon. Bye now." She hung up the phone as she stared at me.

"Jesus Kid, I've seen all sorts of home lives and shit, but god damn, is he strict. I've never met a parent who wouldn't believe that their child is sick. I mean, when I'm calling, that is. Otherwise it's usually a pass to skip gym, but him? Your brothers a bit of a lunatic, kid."

I resist the urge to mention that he is certified as a lunatic. The more I say, the more she might try to get involved.

"Jesus Kid, just I dunno, nap or something until he comes, You're not going back to class. I have a feeling you'll be home for quite an amount of days. I'll contact your teacher and have some kid bring your stuff."

The only one who was willing to bring my stuff was Po' boy. He greeted me as soon as he walked into the room.

"Hey dude. So, are you sick?" He peers over at me."

"Don't get too close, Sweetheart!" the nurse instructs. "Eric isn't feeling well."

Po' boy chuckles. "Thought you were faking it so you wouldn't have to run in gym today."

"Shove it," I mutter, holding back the urge to puke on him.

"Fuck, you really _are_ sick. Well here," he says, handing me my shit before leaving. He turns around to get one more look at me. "Did you lose weight?"

"Yeah," I manage out, with a very slight nod of the head. "Like ten more pounds or something since before Easter."

"Woah, dude," Kenny says as he leaves the germy room.

Almost twenty minutes later Scott enters the room, glaring. He still thinks I'm faking it, and that this is all some scam of mine. Like I'd seriously go into the depths of making myself _this_ ill.

"Okay, sir, please sign here and Eric is ready to leave."

He mumbled while scratching down his name as I follow him weakly out to the truck.

"You can stop faking now, Eric," Scott replies monotone. "What's wrong?"

I reply by puking in the bottom of his truck.

"Fuck," Scott curses. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He sighs, as he drives me to Hells Pass Hospital to be checked out. "What the fuck did you eat? Where's this shit coming from?"

I barf again making Scott more pissed.

Scott swears again, angry every time I sneeze or resist the urge to puke.

As he fills out the forms, he keeps looking back and forth at me. I think he might be worried, but then again it's rare he gives a shit about someone who isn't his girlfriend. And he won't admit it, but he kinda likes Mr. Kitty, too.

Handing back the forms, he sighs.

"Eric?"

He follows me back into the check out room as the stupid bitch makes me sit on top of some gay counter. Shoving a thermometer in my mouth, I nearly gag.

"102.1. He's got a fever."

No shit, I bite back, not being in the mood to insult her. She does some other stupid test thing sticking some popsicle stick in my mouth and all that other lame doctor crap.

"Wait right here Eric and Scott, we'll be right back with the results."

Scott was the only one who seemed to be nervous. He was probably worried about the cost or some crap. As soon as the doctor came back in, he was already paler than his ginger skin already was.

"It seems here that young Eric has a case of Scarlet Fever. Now, don't be worried, keep him home for a few days, keep him out of contact with other children and after some rest he should be fine." The doctor wrote some name of something in his shitty handwriting, handing the paper to Scott. Taking one look at it, he let out some stupid sigh.

He muttered a string of curse words before nodding at the doctor. "Thank you," he replies in his best stuck up voice and forces me out the door.

"Fuck, Kid, I don't know how to deal with sick people. I don't know how to deal with any of this," he sighs. "I don't know what to do when you're sick. Hell, _I _haven't been sick since before my parents died, so I don't know how to nurse you. Fuck. But um, the doctor said we should get your fever down. Can you eat?"

I shrug in response. It's clear to him that I'm not in the mood to answer, and he gets frustrated and starts to spill out random ideas in his head, talking to himself almost, like the crazy ginger he is.

"Fizzie drinks are supposed to be good when you're sick. Like ginger ale or something. Do you want to get a slurpee or something?"

"Okay?" I say, and he's still muttering to himself.

"Because then the coke or something would help your stomach and the coldness with bring down your fever. And soup!" he says loudly. "Soup is good too, and crackers. Ice cream for your throat, hey, we'll get some McDonalds ice cream; I know you like their sundaes and that helps your throat, right?"

He's asking questions I'm not even sure I'm supposed to answer, and without options he pulls up to a McDonalds and orders me one of their cheapass sundaes. My throat hurts too much to talk, but eating small amounts of the sundae seems to help.

He then forces me to get a coke flavored slurpee, and I'm not objecting. He's buying me food I haven't had in ages and he's so confused on what to do. He tells me to sit in the truck while he runs to into the grocery store buying a quick amount of food. He comes back with a bag full of food only sick people eat and the asshole's so confused about what to do.

When we get back to the house he tells me to go lay down on the couch or something and puts a blanket over me and lets me watch tv. Apparently he forgot about the grounding, but I'm not objecting.

"You're still grounded but uh, you're sick, so you can only watch a little tv."

Dammit.

He goes to the kitchen to make some soup, forcing me to eat a little bit of it.

I puke up the rest of the food.

God-fucking-dammit.

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_**Reviewers get ...Cartman germs! **_


	19. Home is your Headstone

_**I'm a bad person for saying that I was gonna have some update all the time. xD; But uh, I joined this South Park roleplay and um...it's been a little bit of an obsession lately haha. Actually the roleplay spawned off the crack pairing KennyxGary(the Mormon haha) Its quite sad, actually. But I do promise to work on this. Even though work starts soon for me, I will make time for this fic. It's my baby, after all.**_

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**Chapter 18**

Being sick fucking sucks, and the days of being sick feel longer than they should. The reality of missing school when you're sick isn't the same of your stupid fantasy. You think it's going to be awesome and cool, but then all you find is that when you're sick all the channels have the stupidest shows on, you can't leave the house, and time goes by so slow you cannot believe it.

And then you have to choke down your food, the same meal you've had previously.

And then after day two of being sick, the routine gets so old and you start to feel disgusting all over. Like, Kenny-poor disgusting.

And then when you get back to a social life all you can do is dream of being back to the world of being sick.

I've missed almost a week now. I've had a fever for almost three fucking days straight and it finally went down like three hours ago. Scott's super pissed because he has to stay home to take care of me. But at the same time he's kind of been a little nicer in his non-douche bag way.

At least he's not yelling at me all the fucking time.

Because I've been sick for like, a week or so, they send over some stupid kid to bring me all my missed work. Even though we're only in _one_ class together they send over the stupid Jew Boy to bring me all my work.

I'm sick and gross looking when the Jew rings the door bell and the asshole answers the door.

"Hi Scott, is Cartman there? I'm supposed to bring him his homework," he says with a scowl on his face. It's clear he's only doing this because he has no option.

"He's in the living room Kyle, he's still sick so don't get to close." God I hate how Scott's acting all nice and sweet. While I admit that he's been nicer since I've been sick, he's still nowhere near awesome or nice. Scott leaves the two of us in the in the room alone, making it all awkward.

"Uh-hey, Fatass," the Jew greets, setting a bunch of papers on the table nearby. "How sick are you?"

"Fever for three days straight, puking up everything for two days, and some gay ass marathons on tv since I arrived home."

"That sucks," he replies awkwardly, looking around the house. He's taking in all the stupid things Scott has put on the wall."How is it living with him?" he asks, and he's just making small talk for who the hell knows why. He knows we don't do small talk; we bitch at each other, maybe fight a little, and then he leaves pissed off.

I have a feeling he might be nicer all because of that stupid Jew thing I went to, that, and everyone is a bit nicer to me because I'm a so-called orphan.

"Shitty. Don't be fooled, Kahl; he's not nice like he is at Temple. He's a dickwad, a ginger, and the world's biggest asshole. Not to mention he's a certified psycho."

"Oh. "

"Yeah."

"Well, um," he responds awkwardly, and I have no clue why. It's like he's _trying_ to be nice to me. I bet his dumb mother said something like "Be nice to him Bubbie, he's an orphan." God, that bitch is annoying.

"You can go Kahl," I say, and he nods.

"Um Cartman? You know, you don't _have_ to come to my bar mitzvah, you know. Even if Scott says you have to, or my mom does, you know you don't. We're not really friends, so you know, don't come if you don't want to. But uh, I wouldn't completely hate the idea if you did come, just so you know. Even if it is _you_ of all people, it's nice to know another Jewish kid."

"I'm coming Kahl," I respond with a slight cough. "I've got no choice; Scott hears the words and he's making me go. And _of course we're_ friends Kahl; if we weren't then why would I stick around with you losers for so long?"

"Because we're your only friends?" He snapped back.

"Kahl, please leave. Or I will puke on every last one of your goddamn daywalker clothes."

His eyes went wide and he left the room, not before being stopped by Scott.

"So, how's preparation going?"

"It's...it's fine," he says, a little bit relieved to be away from me. "Work. A lot of work. I've got lessons soon," he says and Scott nods his head like he's excited. "I'm hoping Eric will get excited about this."

"Don't," Kyle snorts, holding back laughter. "He hates the ideas of the Jewish culture. In fourth grade he tried to exterminate the Jews. When he was eight, he made a Hitler costume for Halloween. He owned like, ten tapes of stuff of the Holocaust when we were younger. He's a Nazi, and _he's_ proud to admit it. _No one_ can change Eric Cartman's viewpoint on the Jews, so don't even try."

"I can," Scott says, accepting this like it's some sort of Challenge. "And I will. You forget, he _lives_ with me now, _little boy_. I own every piece of Eric Cartman. I spent _years_ in the mental institution studying him, and all his fears and weaknesses. I dedicated a portion of my life to making my baby brother _the_ best person he will be. By the time he graduates high school, he _will_ _not_ be like the spoiled brat you've known forever. And I'm doing the _one thing_ his slut of a mother never did: I know how to discipline him. I _can_ and _do_ say no. I'm not falling into _any_ of his little traps. Now, tell your mom I thank her for the cookies she sent, they were delicious."

Kyle left the house with a speechless look on his face. Before he left he turned to me and mouthed the words "Holy shit, Dude," as if to agree that I do live with a psychopath. Psht, I never needed anyone to tell me that. Scott's been a douche since the day I met him, and even before then, according to that video Mom made. Scott's a dick, and he won't ever change.

When the dumb Jew left, Scott came into the room. "Y'know, Eric, there's nothing wrong with being Jewish. I think you'll enjoy it after a while. Maybe once you see Kyle's party, you'll like what you see and want one of your own."

I snorted; like that'll ever happen.

He seemed determined to get me to convert to his stupid religion.

Psht, like that'll ever happen.

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_**Reviews are magical. You guys get...Underpants Gnomes. Yep. That's your gift. All your underpants stolen. Oh, or you guys get Gary the Mormon. Your choice.**_


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